No Middle Term
by intothewoods00500
Summary: Love has no middle term- either it destroys, or it saves. Peter finds himself learning this the hard way. What is a king to do when faced with a situation, and a woman, that he never expected? PeterxOC
1. A Yellow Rose

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing that you recognize. All original characters are my own. Thank you.

**A/N**: Just to get you sorted out- this takes place somewhere in 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe', placed in the timeline a few years after 'The Horse and his Boy'. Peter is around twenty five, Susan is twenty four, Edmund is twenty two, and Lucy is twenty. This is going to follow book verse as much as possible, but it's still my own story, if you know what I mean... Feel free to ask any other questions you have. I'll be happy to answer them.

xoxo,

Woods

**Chapter One**

A Yellow Rose

_The bright, sunny color of yellow roses evokes a feeling of warmth and happiness. The warm feelings associated with the yellow rose are often akin to those shared with a true friend. As such, the yellow rose is an ideal symbol for joy and friendship._

ONCE UPON A TIME in a kingdom far, far away there lived a king. This king was a very kind, gentle sort of king. He was the sort of king that you read about in fairy tales, rather than the tyrannical sort that no one likes to talk about, even long after they have disappeared. This king's name was King Peter, and he ruled over his country of Narnia with his three siblings; Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. These four kings and queens had been ruling peacefully over their country for many years, after arriving in a very unusual way… but that is another story entirely. The story at hand begins in the tenth year of the High King Peter's reign. The last of the rebels in the northern part of the country had been quieted, Calorman (their neighbors to the south) were as peaceful as ever, and it came to pass that the High King called for a great celebration to be held. Invitations were sent to all the great lords and ladies and knights of all the provinces under the rule of the Kings and Queens of Narnia. Freedom, peace, honor, justice, brotherhood: all the principals upon which the kingdom of Narnia built its base were to be honored during this great celebration held by the High King in his castle at Cair Paravel. And this, on the first day of the festivities, is where our story begins.

* * *

><p>"Oh, I do wish she would get on." A young, dark haired man sat, sprawled in a fine chair, resting his head on his hand and looking very frustrated indeed.<p>

A tall, blonde man replied to his brother, standing and gazing out a window across the room. "You know how our sister is, brother. More than likely she is rethinking the dress she chose previously for this occasion, and must now find another. She seems determined to make a good impression on these guests arriving today." He laughed a bit to himself, and gazed down through the glass where he could see quite a bit of commotion. People and horses moving about, ladies being handed down from carriages, and children running about, talking excitedly to one another. Cair Paravel hadn't seen this much excitement in a very long time. It was going to do all of them a bit of good.

"If she takes very much longer, all the guest will have gone. And then all of this bother will have been for nothing." As if prompted by the dark haired man's words, a door opened and in came two girls. One, the older of the two, had very dark hair and darker eyes. She was dressed in a fine pale blue garment that floated about her, giving her an almost ethereal quality. The younger of the two, her long blonde hair hanging unbound down her back, looked bright and fresh and gay in a yellow gown that hung loosely about her body and billowed when she walked. The man that had been sitting stood when the ladies entered. "What was it this time, sister?"

"The first gown didn't fit quite right. I am going to have to speak to the seamstress about having it altered. I simply couldn't wear it today in front of people." The dark haired man gave a snort and crossed his arms.

"So, naturally, it took you two hours to pick a new one. How-"

"Ignore Edmund, Sue. He's been like this all morning. I've been thinking about sending him back to his chambers for a time out. You look lovely." The blonde man stepped forward and kissed his sister's cheek. "You, too, Lou." He bent a bit to kiss his other sister and then turned to his brother. "Are you going to behave long enough to greet the guests, brother, or shall I tell them you aren't feeling well?"

"I am not a child, Peter."

"Cease acting like one, and we will cease treating you like one." The High King Peter put his hands on his hips and looked at his brother. They both knew that neither meant any of the things they had said. Peter and Edmund quarreled just as often as any other two brothers. It mattered very little that they were Kings, as they were brothers first and would always be so.

A knock at the door drew all of the young monarchs' attentions. "Enter." The deep voice of the high king boomed, loud enough for the being on the opposite side of the door to hear him. The heavy door was pushed open, and in came a fawn. The dark hair on his lower body was neatly groomed and clearly recently washed, and a thin silver circlet that Peter had bestowed upon him years ago rested on his head.

"Hello, Mr. Tumnas!" Lucy, ever adoring of her fawn friend, darted forward to greet him with her customary hug. No matter how many times Susan tried to teach their younger sister proper court manners, some things would never change. Peter gave the blonde girl an affectionate smile. Truth be told he cared very little for proper court manners, at least in the privacy of his own chambers. Tumnas was very nearly as much family to him as his own siblings were, and he had lived there with them in Cair Paravel from the very beginning.

Lucy relinquished her hold on the fawn, and he gave a small bow to the rest of the monarchs. "Your majesties. I have been told to inform you that the guests have begun to gather in the great hall, and your presence is required to greet them."

"Thank you, Sir Tumnas. We will not waste another moment. If you will lead the way…" Peter extended his arm, indicating that the fawn should exit the chambers before the kings and queens. He bowed again and did as he was told.

Edmund gave an audible sigh as he followed his older brother out of the room, and Peter turned his head to look at him. "Do your best to hide your foul temper from our guests, brother. I won't have them thinking their kings are prone to tantrums like they were toddlers."

Edmund grunted. "Sod off. I know you hate these formal gatherings as much as I do. All the propriety and idle chatter and fluff is enough to make my head go numb after a quarter hour. You owe me a good spar after this one, Pete." Being a king for over nine years did very little to turn Edmund warm to the idea of being a man of the court. He much preferred to be in the countryside, getting his hands dirty and fighting to, as he put it 'propriety and idle chatter and fluff'. Lucy took the dark haired man's arm, pressing herself gently against him in her customary way. She knew how much he disliked gatherings.

"I do wish you would stop complaining, Edmund. It's not as if you had do plan or anything to do with the preparations." Susan lengthened her stride to catch up with her older brother, taking his arm in the same fashion as Lucy had done to Edmund. Susan, quite opposite from her dark haired brother, had taken to queenly life like a fish to water. She adored everything about it, from planning balls and festivals, to caring for her people defending her country. She was rather like Peter, in that respect.

Edmund merely huffed in response, clearly determined to keep himself in a foul temper, no matter what his siblings said. Peter knew when he was like this there would be no reasoning with him.

The family followed the fawn through the familiar halls of the castle, down two flights of stairs, and into a narrow hallway that would lead them to the great hall. "Try to look as if you're not being forced to do this, Ed. Once we've seen all the guests you and I will go for a ride." In the back of his mind, Peter felt rather like he was bribing a small child to behave, rather than a full grown man- a king, no less.

"I understand, Peter. You act as if I was going to break down and go into conniptions in front of the whole congregation."

"I do wish," cut a merry voice through the bickering, "that the two of you would stop arguing. This is supposed to be happy day for Narnia. Don't let your silly need to always be at each other's throats ruin it." Lucy tugged on Edmund's arm, and they pushed their way through the heavy velvet curtains that separated them from the great hall. Peter and Susan followed close behind.

The grand marble hall was as beautiful as it had always been. Open on one side to the sea air, Peter couldn't help but grin as the full, salty scent of the ocean hit him full on. The hall was empty, and as Peter made his way to his throne he took in for a brief moment the effect of the columns that ran the length of the hall. Breathtaking, still, after all of these years. His home still managed to take his breath away.

Once he saw his siblings were settled, he raised a hand to signal to Tumnas. "You may send then in now, Sir Tumnas." The fawn bowed again and hurried off. "Perhaps there will be a pretty foreign lady that will change Edmund's mood. They do say nothing will change a man's foul disposition so much as-"

"Oh, hush you. Honestly, Peter, sometimes you're as bad as he is." Peter laughed under his sister's disapproval. The deep sound bounced off of the columns and high vaulted ceilings, lingering in the air long after he had closed his mouth. Susan's mouth had closed tightly, forming the thin line it always did when she was cross with them. Peter nearly laughed again. He knew the moment people started coming in she would be back to her usual sweet demeanor. She could never stay annoyed for too long.

The tell-tale 'clip-clop-clip' of centaur hooves on the marble floor told the monarchs that their guests were drawing near. Two centaur guards appeared at the end of the hall, flanking, on either side, a line of people, all gossiping excitedly, their whispers bouncing off the walls and sending their words every which way. The centaurs stopped two or three yards before the dais causing the long line of people to come to a halt as well. Peter could have sworn he heard his brother groan at the sight of the amount of people present, but he chose to ignore him. "Your majesties, if we may proceed." The older of the centaurs, and the captain of Peter's guard, withdrew a scroll of paper from the breast of his armor.

"Please, Einar." Peter nodded at his captain, a smile playing on his lips. He was glad to some extent that he didn't yet have to stand and give a speech. That would come later, at the first great banquet. For now, all he had to do was sit and acknowledge each family as they were presented. This was easy. Simple. Einar cleared his throat and unrolled the scroll.

"The Lord Alfher and his lady Eleanor, ambassadors from the southern mountains of Archenland." The rather stout couple at the front of the line moved forward, climbing the few steps of the dais to kneel before Peter. The man, Lord Alfher, took Peter's hand and kissed it in the customary way.

"Welcome to Narnia, friends. May your stay be filled with joy and comfort." The words were automatic, falling from Peter's lips before he really thought about them. The man and his wife got to their feet and moved to the side, allowing for the captain to call the next set of names. They came forward, and the process was repeated all over again. In spite of himself, Peter found himself paying less and less attention to the proceedings. From the corner of his eye he could see Edmund fidgeting, probably longing to throw himself into the sea already.

Every once and a while Susan or Lucy would spot an old friend or acquaintance and greet them themselves, and the sight of their reunions made Peter glad. At least his idea for this gathering had made someone in his family happy. Truth be told, Peter disliked the formalities almost as much as his brother. He would be more in his element at Susan's ball at the end of the week, or at the feasts, or at the tournament. Places where he could speak to his people himself, where he wouldn't have to put on the stiff, royal façade. Those were much more preferable.

"The Sir Orestes, his lady Althea, and their children the lords Amnon, Hamnet, and Cadeyrn, and the lady Hermia. Ambassadors from Doorn and the Lone Islands." A large family separated from the crowd, making their way to the dais. The head of the family was a tall, intimidating man wearing the mail armor of a knight. He knelt in the customary way and kissed Peter's knuckles.

"Welcome to Narnia, friends. May your stay be filled with joy and comfort." His eyes scanned over the rest of the family- a small, older looking woman whom he assumed was the man's wife, and three sons that had inherited their father's build, and a daughter. Her long blonde hair was braided away from her face, but the strands that had already escaped spoke of an unruly mass of curls that had been tamed for the event. He smiled. The family got to their feet, and for a moment the daughter's eyes caught his. A flash of blue, and Peter felt his heart beat heavily in his chest, but only for a moment. Then she had her back to him, and was descending the stairs again to mingle with the growing crowd. He blinked once. Twice. Then shook his head slightly. It had been a long morning, already, and it was already getting to his head.

The rest of the proceedings passed without incident, and Peter felt himself visibly relax when the last of the ambassadors was called. At last- at long, long last- Peter rose to his feet. He clapped his hands twice, and it was enough to make silence fall over the crowd almost immediately. "Friends, I beg you to make my home your own. My servants will be on hand to show you to your quarters, and any part of the castle and its grounds are at your disposal. I must also beg you all to join me in a feast tonight, to honor our great Lord Aslan and the good health of our sweet country of Narnia." Applause rang through the hall, and he saw his siblings getting to their feet out of the corners of his eyes.

Tumnas appeared again, accompanying the royal family back through the heavy velvet curtain. "That wasn't so bad, was it Edmund?" Lucy asked gently, her hand once again in the crook of her brother's elbow. Edmund huffed in response, and Peter reached over to ruffle his brother's hair, upsetting the silver circlet and causing it to fall sideways on his head.

"I am afraid I must take my leave of you all now," Susan said as they exited the narrow hall. "I have much to do before the feast tonight." She stood on her toes to quickly kiss Peter's cheek, before disappearing.

"I wonder how many gowns she will go through before deciding what to wear tonight." Edmund mused, a scowl on his face as he readjusted his crown and hair.

"It doesn't matter, Ed. Care to go for a ride before we are required to be formal again? It has been quite a while since Embla has had a chance to stretch her legs." Peter clapped a hand to his younger brother's shoulder, grinning.

"Yes, brother, do lets. Would you like to come, Lucy? Or do you have girlish things to attend to, along with Susan?" Their small, fair-haired sister giggled a bit and detached herself from Edmund's arm.

"I wish I could. I saw a few dear friends that I would so like to catch up with. Do enjoy yourselves, and try to stay out of trouble. Peter, do your best to stay out of the halls of healing. I heard Madam Isobel saying if you injured yourself on a foolish venture one more time she would let you tend your own wounds. Or worse, let Edmund take care of you." She laughed again under her oldest brother's dark glare, turning away from them in a flurry of yellow skirts and hair. When she was gone, Edmund turned to his brother.

"You know, Pete, sometimes I think they have a rather low opinion of us, the girls do."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

Together the two men made their way through the castle and out to the grounds, where the stables were. There was still a flurry of activity here- grooms rushing to and fro, settling the horses who had been used on journeys to the Cair. They wove in and out of the crowd, before entering the main stable. Peter's horse, Embla, was kept in a large stall in the center of the structure. None of the horses used for riding were of the talking sort, but rather the common breed more suited for the kind of work needed by Kings.

Puckering his lips, Peter clicked his tongue a few times in a noise the mare would recognize. No sooner did he finish the sound than did her dappled head appear over the edge of her stall door, making a low noise of greeting. "Seems she missed you, Pete. You should know better than to neglect a woman. Hell hath no fury and all that." Peter put a hand on his mount's forehead, scratching between her eyes as he glared at his brother.

Rather than replying to his brother, Peter called out to a passing man. "Bayard, do you have a moment?"

The old man approached his king. "A thousand moments for you, majesty."

"Would you fetch tack for myself and King Edmund? We fancy a jaunt before the feast this evening." The groom bowed and hurried off in reply. "Are you taking Ciar today, or is your head still sore from the last time?" Edmund was in the process of breaking in a rather willful stallion, and the large black creature had managed to throw the king on his head last time he had taken him out.

The dark haired man scowled and took a half hearted swing at the older king's head. "Do me a favor and throw him off today, Embla. Perhaps it will knock some manners into him." Edmund patted the mare's neck briefly before stalking off to find his own mount. Peter laughed, watching the commotion while his horse gently snuffed at his hair. It was strange, really, how quickly they had become accustomed to this life. In fact, he could scarcely remember a time when he _hadn't_ been a king of Narnia. It was almost as if the time before the battle against the White Witch had been a dream- one that he was slowly forgetting, the details growing fuzzier and fuzzier. He shook his head and turned to let himself into the stall with his mare.

In short order the groom appeared with her saddle and bridle. Peter mounted as soon as he was able, and left the stable to wait for his brother. He appeared soon after, his mouth set as his large mount pranced under him. "Alright there, Ed? Ciar looks ready to spit fire."

"Doesn't he always? Perhaps if I'm lucky he'll aim it at you, and I can have the satisfaction of watching you charred to a crisp." They both laughed at this and turned their mounts away from the stables and down the hill that Cair Paravel was situated upon. They rode through the city, stopping here and there to greet people who hailed them, and speak to certain people who had not been at the gathering that morning.

Finally they reached the bottom of the hill, and Edmund turned to his brother with a gleam in his eyes. "Last one to the shore helps Susan pick out her gown for the first ball." Peter snorted.

"If you think you can keep up, I'm for it."

"Spare me, old man. Ciar will make Embla eat his dust." In response, Peter dug his heels into the mare's sides, sending her shooting off in the direction of the coast. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he felt the air whipping in his face and hair, and smelt the heavy salt of the sea. Riding outside the Cair was one of the things he had grown to like best. Nothing seemed to matter as Embla was gliding across the ground. Lords, knights, ladies and maidens- what did they matter? They were as inconsequential as the stones that his horse's hooves kicked up as she ran. He looked over his shoulder to see Edmund's horse very close, and gaining. He knew that his mare was no match for the young war horse his brother was one. But that mattered very little, as well.

The horses reached the beach at nearly the same time, slowing to a stop as they ran into the sea, the icy water splashing up around Peter's boots. Both men were laughing, exhilarated, as they turned their horses to walk down the shoreline.

Peter looked up, then, to glance at the silhouette of his home, stamped across the bright blue skyline. It was one of his favorite sights in the world. If he hadn't lived there his entire life, it at least felt as if he had. He felt his heart swelling with love and pride. Narnia was his home, and he loved every inch of it- from the southern border with Archenland to the northern mountains. It was all beautiful, it was all wonderful, and most importantly, it was all _home_.

* * *

><p>The two kings spent the rest of the day riding along the countryside, before Peter insisted that it was time to return before their sister came after them. The scene on the castle grounds was considerably more calm than it had been when they left. Embla slowed to a halt and allowed Peter to slide off and watch with amusement as Ciar galloped in behind them, skidding to a stop and causing the king on his back to pitch over his head and into the dirt. Peter's booming laugh nearly drowned out Edmund's muffled curses and he got to his feet, angrily brushing the dirt from his clothing.<p>

"By the lion, Ed, you would think you were an inexperienced teenager again by the way he tosses you about." The large black beast snorted as if in response, standing stock still and eyeing his fallen rider with one eye.

"One of these days, Pete, someone will put your arse in the dirt, and I will do nothing but laugh." A young groom came running from the stables, hurrying to assist the men. Peter gave his mare one last appreciative pat before he let the groom lead her away. Edmund simply glared at the black horse as he compliantly followed the groom, clearly eager for a rest and a snack. "Sometimes I think perhaps it is just me he is holding a grudge against. I have no doubt the foul beast would turn gentle as a lamb if Lucy were to try to tame him." Edmund crossed his arms, still glaring. Peter put a good-natured hand on his brother's shoulder.

"A theory I wouldn't like to test in practice, brother. I fear Lucy's head is far more precious than yours, and much less hard." Edmund cuffed his brother around the head.

"The way the two of you carry on, someone may get the idea you dislike each other." Both men turned to look at the man who belonged to the voice.

"Anath! I would have thought you would still be locked in my study, pouring over guest lists. Glad to see you've decided to show yourself." The man was nearly as tall as Peter himself, but a bit older. His hair and neatly trimmed beard were dark, but beginning to be sprinkled with grey. His tight mouth and jaw line spoke of a severe temper, but the laugh lines around his brown eyes told a different story.

"Your opinion of me wounds me, sire. Besides, I heard a rumor that the Queen Susan was searching for you and I thought I might miss the show. She hasn't already found you, has she?"

"No. Is she cross?"

"I believe the maid's exact words were 'she looks as if her hair could light itself on fire at any moment'. I will let you interpret it for yourselves." The older man laughed at the concerned looks that flashed over the young king's faces.

"Ed, don't you think a King's advisor should be helping him to solve problems, rather than simply laughing when they arise?"

"A good advisor knows how to pick his battles. Woe to the man who gets between your sister and the subject of her ire." Anath gave a laugh that seemed to resonate from the very bottom of his barrel like chest – a sound rather like a cannon firing. "Look sharp, my lords. The lady comes."

"Speak of the devil and she shall appear…" Edmund muttered under his breath, turning to face his older sister, spreading his arms wide. "Susan! Kind Anath here was just kind enough to inform us you were on a hunt for our persons." The scowl that had been on her face as she approached deepened, and Peter could see the corner of her lips twisting in a tell-tale snarl.

"You two!" The snarl, coupled with the finger that had worked its way into the air, and was now waving angrily at them did not bode well for the two brothers. "Your little ride has taken us into the late afternoon. There is only an hour before the feast. How am I to explain to our guests that their kings deemed it more important to have a bit of sport than to tidy up and look presentable for them?" Anath chuckled again, but was silenced the moment he became the subject of Susan's icy glare.

"Peace, sister. Peter and I are nothing if not masters at making ourselves presentable. You have so little faith in us." Edmund smiled sweetly at his sister, speaking in a tone that made the woman look as though she wanted to strike him.

"Take those words and put them into action, then. And be sure to bathe, both of you."

"Bathe?"

Susan put her hands on her hips and threw a patronizing look at her older brother, who looked momentarily confused. "Yes, bathe. Large tubs filled with hot water. Soap. Cair Paravel is rather famous for them. You both smell of horse and sweat and dirt. Do not come to dinner like this- it is enough to put anyone off of their appetite." She turned on her heel in a single graceful movement, her long dark hair swinging after her. The men stood still for a moment, stunned.

"I hate when she does that. As if we don't know what baths were…"

"If I were you, my lords, I would simply do what she says and complain about it later. I am truly surprised she did not drag you to your chambers by your ears as if you were misbehaving children."

"Susan the gentle my arse…" Edmund muttered, beginning to walk back towards the castle. Peter lingered a moment with his advisor, watching his brother go.

"You are doing a great thing, Sire." Anath's deep voice spoke softly now, his words only for Peter to hear. "Your people will love this chance to be free and merry, and to get to know their kings and queens. Your sister will settle her temper, and all will be well."

"Yes, of course." Peter had ceased long ago being astonished when his advisor seemed to know his thoughts without having to voice them. "I suppose I should do as she says. Aslan knows what she would do to me if I arrived to the feast as I am, guests or no guests." Peter began to walk, his advisor's booming laugh chasing after him as he went.

* * *

><p>"Friends," the low rumble of chatter that filled the dining hall died down as Peter got to his feet, spreading his arms out as he addressed them. "My siblings and I would like to welcome you, once again, to our home. For nine years our little kingdom of Narnia has lived in peace and had blossomed, like a bloom, after the long winter. The spirit, and pride of the Narnian people is such that we do not give in when faced with adversity, but rather, we rise against it. Over these nine years we have shown everyone that Narnia is not a country to be taken lightly, nor are we a people who will simply be discarded, forgotten." He paused here, looking over the faces of his people- humans and talking animals alike. "I would that every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and the success of liberty. That is my pledge to you. And I have invited you all here, to my home, to celebrate the continuation of this liberty- to celebrate the sweet freedom that was long denied us, and that Aslan returned to us. So I would like all of you to join me in celebration, of the Narnian people, of our spirit, and our beautiful country. We eat and drink together tonight as family, as one united people. I would like to leave you, before we begin, with the words Aslan gave to me, when he first appointed me king."<p>

Peter paused again, his mind going back to that day, nine years ago, when he had first sat on his throne in Cair Paravel. A lifetime seemed to have passed since then, and yet no time at all. The words were still as fresh in his mind as if he had heard them yesterday. "A king is a reflection of his people. If the king is pious, kind, and just, his subjects will be also. It follows that if he is vicious, his subjects become the same. I see you all now, and I could never hope to see myself reflected better, and in such a glorious light. I say now with absolute certainty that my people are the best of all people, and while that certainly does not make me the best of all kings, it does make me the gladdest. But I believe I have let my tongue run away with me. Eat now, and rejoice. I thank you." Peter sat himself back down in his chair at the head of the table, and gave a signal to the servants waiting in the wings to begin the first course.

On his left, his brother was leaning over to whisper to Lucy, who was smiling softly. Before he could look at her, Peter felt Susan's hand on his arm, and her breath in his ear. "Did Anath write that for you?" Peter chuckled as a young kitchen maid placed a bowl of steaming stew in front of him.

"You wound me, Susan. Perhaps I am simply naturally eloquent." Susan gave a burst of laughter that would have been undignified, if not for the fact that her natural composure prevented her from ever looking too undignified.

"Nay, brother. You forget how well I know you. Words never were your forte. You always preferred a sword to a pen, Peter. Did he write it?"

"He did help," Peter confessed, taking the spoon in his hand and lifting his first spoonful to his mouth, aware of all the eyes at the table on him. Once he began the meal, the relative silence lifted. People began to eat and talk and laugh, leaving Peter to talk to his sister without consequence. "But I am not quite as incompetent as you think I am. One does not speak in front of assemblies as often as I do without picking up a few skills." Susan simply shook her head and began tucking into her stew, daintily lifting small, manageable spoonfuls to her mouth, pausing every now and then to blot her lips with her napkin.

"My lord king!" Peter looked up from his bowl to see who had hailed him. A young man, on the right side of the table, was sitting a few seats down from Susan, and appeared to be the one who had spoken. "Will you be participating in the tournament, my lord? I hear your skill with a blade is unmatched by any man or creature in the kingdom." His white blonde hair shone in the candle light, and his full mouth was wide with a grin.

"I am, young lord. I cannot claim to the best of the country's men, but I will do my best." Peter said humbly, smiling at the man.

The young man turned to his left, and Peter realized with a small jolt that it was the young woman he had noticed that morning. "See, sister, I told you he would be participating. Was it so hard to believe I could be right in this matter?" Before the young woman could speak, another man to their right put a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"You do not have the most glorious record for honesty, or accurate facts. Forgive us if we do not hold your words as absolute truths, Hamnet." The young man, Hamnet, gave the man to his right a dubious look.

"Aye, me! My own flesh and blood think so little of me! What have I ever done to earn this distrust?" Peter watched the exchange with fascination, nearly forgetting about his half eaten stew. The first man who spoke, Hamnet, seemed to be the younger of the two, perhaps only older than the young woman. He could only assume the second was his brother. He remembered there being four siblings in total from their introduction that morning. Their bickering was so like his own with his siblings that he nearly laughed.

"Please, spare us your dramatics, brother. I am sure their majesties do not want their meal spoiled by your foolishness. Eat and be quiet, for once in your life." A third man, older than the other two, spoke with a seriousness that the other two men lacked. "I apologize for my brother's behavior my king. They sometimes forget their heads and act as if they are children, and not the men that they are."

Peter laughed. "Nonsense, my lord. Nothing is so healthy in sibling relationships than bickering. I tell my sisters this all the time, but they are less quick to believe. Tell me, Hamnet was it? Will you also be competing in the tournament?" Hamnet's grin got, if possible, even wider.

"Yes, my lord. All my brothers will, and our father. We have to defend the honor of the Lone Islands, do we not?"

"I dare say I will have my hands full, then. Do you joust, sir?"

"Nay, my king. Amnon is the jouster of the family. My father and I prefer to be on our feet, with swords in our hands. I have seen what damage can be done to a man in a joust gone wrong. I love my own life too much to give it over to the will of a horse and a wooden shield." This time Peter let out a true, booming laugh, which echoed off the walls of the hall and caused a few people in the near vicinity to stop their conversations and look over to him. He liked his young man. His honesty was bold and unashamed, and his grin honest.

"And your middle brother? What is his game of choice?"

Hamnet clapped his brother on the back with a hard hand, causing the man to choke a bit on the broth he had been swallowing. "Our dear Cadeyrn is a boxer, my king. He may not look like too much, but he could knock down anyone you put in front of him." Peter put a hand to his chin, considering the three brothers. It gave him great joy to have a conversation with the subjects of his kingdom. His day to day matters were often far removed from his people- locked in his office with ledgers and treaties, riding off to the Northern fences to fight some enemy. It was seldom that he got the opportunity to speak with his people directly.

"And your sister?" The young woman in question's eyes widened as she heard him mention herself, putting down her spoon and looking up at him. Her blue eyes met his and he felt that strange shock run through him again, buzzing through him to the tips of his fingers and toes. "An archer, perhaps?"

"Oh no, my king. My sister does not wield a blade. She is a healer- would much rather fix wounds than inflict them. I believe she finds our practice of fighting each other for sport rather silly." In spite of his words which would lead one to believe he thought his sister was foolish, the young man was looking at her with nothing but absolute fondness and adoration.

"Is that so? I dare say it must have been useful to have a healer in the family, with the three of you inflicting wounds on each other. Your brothers are fortunate to have you to heal them."

"It would not be necessary, my king, if they were not in the habit of beating each other to a pulp simply to prove that they can." For the first time since she had arrived, the lady spoke. Her voice was soft, but firm. Her tone was not bitter, neither was her face. She was not speaking from anger or frustration- merely stating facts.

"Ah, such is the nature of brothers. Not a day has passed where Edmund and myself have not fought over some matter or another. It is why we have sisters- to keep us from truly harming each other and remind us that we really are fond of each other, in spite of our differences."

Hamnet laughed, then. "You see, sister? We fight because we love each other."

"And I thought it was simply because you were bored." Another laugh, and Hamnet briefly let his hand touch his sister's.

"Ah, but you know what they say about idle hands, sister. My hands will not be idle when they are giving Amnon a whipping." The young woman shook her head and turned her eyes down again. Before he had a chance to properly notice, servants were at the table again, removing bowls and replacing them with empty plates. Then, large portions of every meat imaginable were placed on the table- from wild game hens to boar and deer. Peter filled his plate with a small venison, all eyes on him once more, and took a bit, allowing the rest of the table to continue with their meal.

"Peter, is this the venison you and Ed caught on your last hunt?" Lucy's voice came from Edmund's side, and Peter turned his attention to her.

"The very same. It was a good hunt. Do you remember, Ed? I believe that was when Ciar threw you into the briar bush." The few people around them who heard laughed, and Edmund threw a half-hearted glare at his brother.

"Be kind to Edmund, brother. If I recall correctly, it was he who took the stag down that day."

"Luck, I assure you." Peter brushed it off, remembering the day well. A telltale smile played on his lips, telling his brother and sisters that he was joking, and being obtuse on purpose.

A pair of small hands were helping themselves to the venison in question, and Peter found his eyes drawn to the young woman again. The braided plait of her corn silk hair had fallen over her shoulder, giving Peter a good idea of the length of it. It still looked ready to escape its confinement at any moment, as if her hair had a mind of its own and was slowly plotting a rebellion against the ties that bound it. He could imagine it would be a sight if she left it unbound. It was not fashionable for women in Narnia to wear their hair down and natural, so he had very little hope of ever seeing it as such.

He shook his head, then, clearing his mind of the strange thoughts. He had never thought about hair that long in his life, except for the time his brother had thrown a handful of clay at his head and he had to wash his hair for hours to rid himself of it.

Peter turned his attention back to his plate.

He felt his sister's gentle hand on his, and turned his head to meet her mild blue eyes. "Are you quite alright, Peter? You've hardly touched your food all night." He smiled at her, using his other hand to pat hers gently.

"Do not concern yourself, sister. My thoughts ran away with me for a moment. I must confess, after years of you telling me I will someday die from the sheer amount of food I consume, it is refreshing to have you concerned when I eat too little." She withdrew her hand, a smile playing on her lips.

"I am glad to hear you have something other than wool and battle tactics up there, brother."

Peter gave a quite chuckle. "Sometimes I even surprise myself in my ability to think myself in circles. Perhaps I should stay with battle tactics." He turned back to his dinner, eating a few bites to appease his sister before looking back down his table again.

It pleased him more than he could possibly put into words that he could see his subjects come together and enjoy themselves like this. As a king of Narnia, he wanted nothing more than to see his people happy. Their joy created his joy.

He threw one more glance at the blonde woman who was eating her dinner quietly, stopping only to make a quiet comment to the brother closest to her. Once again Peter turned his eyes down to his plate. It wouldn't do for him to develop a fascination with one of the ambassador's daughters. It wouldn't do at all.

The feast lasted for hours into the night, continuing long after everyone had finished eating. The ladies retired before the men, who sat drinking and telling tales until Peter finally stood and called for bed time.

Peter retired to his own chambers, his head heavy with drink and bone tired, but happy. He fell into a heavy sleep, dreaming of horses and swords and a white stag, and masses of white blonde hair.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, that's it for the first chapter. Let me know if you think it's worth continuing. I really appreciate feedback, so don't be afraid to tell me what you think!


	2. Crown Imperial

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing that you recognize. All original characters are my own. Thank you.

**A/N**: First of all, to my reviewers- THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! I really appreciate the support and the help, really. This chapter was mainly for fleshing out Hermia's character a bit, so I hope you like her. Next chapter will get the action rolling again.

Xoxo,

Woods

**Chapter Two**

Crown Imperial

_It is not often in the present day we meet with the crown imperial, although it is one of the "old-fashioned" flowers that were in great favor before bedding came into fashion. It is a noble flower, peculiar in character, and adapted for a style of gardening that effects a kind of compromise between the old style and the new._

"COME AT ME AGAIN, BROTHER!" A young man pranced on his toes back and forth, his fists raised in a defensive motion. Another man stood in a similar stance a few feet away, but whipping a bit of blood from his mouth with the back of one hand. It didn't take long for him to recover, and soon the two were at it again- dodging and ducking and throwing blows not meant to harm, but to teach. A little ways away a young woman sat beside a man, a book in her hand.

"I do wonder why Hamnet always agrees to sparring Cadeyrn. The poor fool always gets the sense beat out of him." The man remarked, watching as Cadeyrn wrapped an arm around his brother's head, flipping him to the ground.

"That would imply," the woman said dryly, not looking up from her book, "that he had any sense at all to begin with. Did you know that slugs have four noses?"

"Indeed? Does that mean they have an exceptionally good sense of smell? Or are all four noses rather inept, and they must all work together to form one normal nose?" The man asked.

A little frown made the young woman's eyebrows knit together and the corners of her mouth turn downward as she scanned the pages of her book. "It does not say. Oh, what a silly book. Why would they do that? It seems awfully rotten of them to leave out information that someone would want to know."

The man laughed, then winced as Cadeyrn knocked his younger brother on the side of the head with his fist. "That is because it would be impossible, dear little sister, to answer everyone's questions about everything in one book. Especially your questions." The young woman hummed in reply, her mind back in the contents of her book. "For the love of heaven, Cadeyrn!" The man called suddenly, watching Hamnet fall to the ground yet again. "Give him a rest. You know the idiot won't stop until you've knocked him out, and then father will have all our heads." The two fighting men looked over at their oldest brother, before both giving a heavy sigh.

Cadeyrn extended a hand to his fallen brother, who took it, and the pair made their way slowly back to their siblings. Hamnet fell dramatically at his sister's feet. His lip was swollen and bleeding, and a heavy purple bruise under one eye spoke of an entire black eye that was soon to come. "Sister! Dear, sweet, darling sister! Do you see what he has done to me?" His sister looked over the edge of her book at her dramatically flailing brother and raised an eyebrow.

"You have done this to yourself just as much as he to you, Hamnet." Then she turned to her oldest brother, Amnon. "Did you know that a donkey's eyes are positioned on his head so that he may see all four of his legs at the same time?" An anguished sigh from Hamnet drew her attention again.

"Oh, woe is me! Here I lay injured and my sister can do nothing but speak of donkeys! What has my life become?" Cadeyrn, who had been standing and watching the scene, sat down and gave a derisive snort.

"Do not believe his crocodile tears, dear Hermia. I didn't hit him as hard as all that." Hamnet, who had been laying with his eyes closed and his arms thrown over his head, opened on eye to glare at his brother.

"Don't mock my pain, brother. Next time we duel with swords, and then we'll see who is crying crocodile tears." With a resigned sigh, Hermia closed her book.

"Alright, Hamnet. We will go to the healers and I will get some salve for your eye and lip. Will that suffice?" His dejected languishing all but forgotten as soon as his sister spoke. Hamnet leapt to his feet, lending his sister a hand to help her rise as well.

"Come along, sister dear!" Hermia sighed and followed after him, ignoring the snickers of her two other brothers that trailed behind her.

Thought they had only been in the castle of Cair Paravel for a few days, her brothers had wasted little time in making themselves feel at home. Hamnet was already making himself a reputation with the ladies of the castle, with his dramatic ways, sweet attitude, and handsome face. The day after the welcoming feast Amnon had fallen into deep conversation with the king's advisor, and the two seemed to have become fast friends. Hermia nearly laughed at the idea of the two gruff men being described as friends. It seemed like such a childish word in comparison to them. _Perhaps 'comrades' would be a better term_, she thought to herself.

The halls of healing were located on the ground floor of the castle, near the center of the structure. Hermia had found it on their first day in the Cair, when she had taken much of her day to explore the place that would be her home for the next month or so. The high, white walls were full of light from a large window on the far end of the hall. Beds lined the walls, but were empty for the time being. In this time of peace there was little need for healers, or their facilities. "Sit here, and do not move." Hermia commanded, motioning to the bed nearest the entrance. She looked about her for a few moments, before finding what she was searching for. A large cabinet stood against a wall in the center of the hall.

Opening the large doors, Hermia found it full of supplies- from needles and threads for stitches, to jars of remedies for things like headaches and muscle cramps. Her eyes scanned the items before her, and her hand chose before her mind did. She examined the jar and found that she had been right. The jar's contents would serve to stop the swelling in her brother's face, and help prevent the bruising that was bound to come soon.

Turning away from the cabinet, she returned to her brother's side. She opened the jar and dipped her fingers in the thick substance, the strong smell hitting her nose almost instantly. Her brother, predictably, gave a dramatic cough and covered his nose and mouth with his hands. "What is that foul smelling stuff? Tell me you do not intend to put that on my face."

"I do, indeed, brother. You wanted me to help your injuries, and that is what I am doing. Hold still." Before he could move away from her, she had begun to dab the salve under his swelling eye.

Still hacking, Hamnet looked at her with pleading eyes. "Must it smell like dung? I would hate to believe you are doing this to me on purpose?"

"Doing what? This salve will stop you from swelling like a ripe tomato in a day's time. I can do nothing about the smell, now remove your hands form your mouth so I may apply some to your lip, as well." Looking resigned, Hamnet let his hand fall from his face, and Hermia dabbed the last bit of salve over the cut on his lip. "Perhaps this will deter you from allowing Cadeyrn to knock you about like a rag-doll."

"I suppose I am hoping one of these days I will be the one to knock _him_ down. His ego could use the bruising." Hermia laughed softly, putting a gentle hand in her brother's blonde hair, before fixing the top back on the salve. The thick white paste now covered the upper portion of Hamnet's cheek and most of the right side of his lip, giving him a lop-sided and odd appearance.

"That's you sorted, then, Hamnet. Do try to avoid mother and father while your face heals. Wouldn't want father to knock you down while you're still sore from Cadeyrn's beating." Her brother rose from the bed and bent to kiss her cheek, careful to avoid getting any of the salve on her.

"You are an angel, sister. I am truly unsure what I would do without you." Hermia smiled, patting the un-injured side of his face gently.

"Die, surely. You and Cadeyrn would kill each other without Amnon and I to stop you, and that truly would be a shame. Go, now, and try to keep yourself out of trouble." Hamnet didn't need to be told again, and scampered away, leaving Hermia quietly laughing to herself. In spite of all the grief they caused her, she couldn't imagine what her life would be like without three brothers keeping her on her toes. Very dull, that was for sure.

She was half-way to the cabinet again when a voice rang out behind her, causing her to freeze. "May I help you?" Hermia turned to see the youngest of the queens- a golden-haired young woman around her own age- who was looking at her with a pleasantly inquiring expressing on her face.

"Oh, Queen Lucy! I apologize! My brothers got into a fight, you see, and I was looking for a remedy-" the young queen put up a hand, stopping Hermia's explanation in her throat.

"I am not angry, friend. I was only curious as to whether you needed assistance. I can see now that you do not." Hermia looked at the queen with wide eyes, the jar of salve still clenched in her hand. "Are you trained in the healing arts? It is a skill I have always envied. I am afraid the only healing I can perform is with my cordial." If possible, Hermia's eyes widened a bit more at the mention of the queen's famous cordial that could heal any injury- save any man from the brink of death.

"I-I.. I mean to say, yes, my queen. My mother is a healer, and she has been teaching me what she knows." The bright smile on the young queen's face was contagious, and Hermia found herself smiling through her paralyzing fear. She had never been faced with one of the monarchs alone before. Hermia could only be glad it was Lucy, and not Susan with her grand beauty, or Peter with his all-over grandeur. She was sure she would have fainted, then.

"You are Hermia, are you not? Of the island of Doorn? I remember you and your brothers and father and mother from the introductions. I am so glad to meet you." Hermia felt herself relaxing under the gentle, warm glow of the queen. It was hard not to feel at peace in her presence.

"I am glad to meet you, as well, my queen."

"Do you intend to hold that jar all day, or would you like to put it down?" The queen's eyes focused on the salve in Hermia's hand, and she blushed. Lucy's words had not been meant to tease or shame, but Hermia felt ashamed all the same. She had been standing staring at the queen like a dumb lump- she couldn't help but think how foolish she must look.

"Oh, no my lady. My apologies." Hurriedly she turned and placed the jar of salve where she found it, closing the heavy cabinet doors once again.

"It's quite all right, dear. I am sure master Pelias will be quite pleased once he learns there is another trained healer in the castle." The queen looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled at Hermia again. "Would you like to join me for tea, Hermia? I would like to get to know you a bit more. If that is alright with you, that is."

"With… with you? I would be honored, my lady. But I'm not exactly dressed for…" Hermia gestured lamely to her simple brown cotton dress and her messy hair that she had thrown in a simple twist at the back of her head to keep it out of her face. The young queen laughed and took Hermia by the hand, pulling her along gently.

"That is of no matter. You look lovely. I would like you to feel at home here. No one expects a person to dress to the nines for tea in their own home." Lucy's cheery disposition and bright smile banished any semblance of nerves from the pit of Hermia's stomach, though she did wish she could have Amnon with her. He was always the best at making her feel at ease. "We will take tea in my gardens. I hope this will please you." Hermia's head perked up at the mention of a garden.

"Oh, yes. That would be wonderful, my lady." Lucy's smile grew wider as she led Hermia through the wide passageways of the castle, their hands still comfortably holding each other. They turned a corner and were faced with a wide, tall door. Lucy used her free hand to push it open, and Hermia nearly let out a cry of delight at the sight that greeted her. It was green- green, and purple, and pink, and yellow, and all the other delightful colors of flowers and other plants. The heady, fragrant scent of the blooms hit her hard and Hermia couldn't help but inhale deeply, sighing with pleasure as she exhaled.

"These are my own private gardens. Peter had them made for me for my eighteenth birthday. I like to spend quite a bit of my time here."

"They are… indescribably lovely, my lady."

"Come along, then. Would you like to see them?" With a nod, Hermia took a step inside and listened as the door thudded shut behind them. Looking up, she noticed that the ceiling was made of what seemed to be glass, which allowed the natural sunlight to filter through without subjecting the plants to the elements. A little stone path ran through the gardens, and Hermia walked beside the queen along it. Her eyes scanned everything they passed. Every bloom, every leaf, every little bud and every long, green stem brought Hermia new delight and new wonder. She had never seen a garden like this before in her life.

"It seems as though every sort of flower grows here, though I do not believe many of them are native to Narnia. How is that?" Lucy gave a small shrug, touching a large red rose with her long, thin fingers.

"To be honest, I do not know. Peter has a few gardeners who tend to the plants with special needs. They seem to thrive here." Hermia nodded, her eyes turning to a patch of bright yellow and red flowers. They were tall, with full, bright, bell-shaped blooms.

"These here, they remind you of your brother, the high king."

"Oh? I will be sure to tell him that a he reminds a lady of a flower. Would you care to tell me where you see the resemblance?"

"Please, do not tell him I said he was like a flower. He isn't, really. At least, I do not know him well enough to… It was just that they are so bright and tall and proud. And they are called Crown Imperials, are they not?" She hung her head, her cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. "I am sorry, sometimes I allow my mouth to run away with me."

"Worry not. It is true, if Peter were a flower, he would certainly be very like those. I believe they are even a bit prickly, much like my dear brother."

"I did not mean to imply-"

"No, but I did. Come, and let us sit for tea." A little further along in the gardens the path widened, allowing room for a little table with two chairs beside a small, tinkling fountain. The pleasant noise of the fountain provided a calming, serene setting for the two women as they sat at the small table. "Hadrian!"

"Yes, my lady?" Hermia gave a start as a head appeared out of the greenness. She hadn't even noticed anyone in the garden besides the two of them.

"Would you be a dear and inform mistress Weatherly that we would like some tea, please?"

"Of course, my lady!" The figure emerged from the greenery and proved to be a faun who clip-clopped away on the cobbled path on little cloven hooves.

"Hadrian is the head gardener here, and a dear friend."

Hermia couldn't think of anything to say except, "yes, my lady." It rather stunned her that she was sitting across from the queen Lucy, awaiting the cook to bring them tea so they could drink together. Who was she to have tea with the queen? Next to the golden beauty of the other young woman, Hermia felt rather plain and inferior- not that Lucy would ever do anything to make her feel that way deliberately. The young queen could never be anything except gracious and kind.

"Well, dear Hermia, we have already spoken about my brother. I would like to hear about yours. What is it like to have three older brothers? I find myself tried at times only having two." Hermia couldn't help but smile.

"It's really not as bad as all that, my lady. They can be quite…"

"Tiresome?"

"Oh, no! Not at all. Only…"

"Irritating? If your brothers are anything like Edmund and Peter, I know I am right." It was strange, hearing her speak about the two kings as if they were normal people and not the rulers of their great nation of Narnia. As if they lived normal lives, as her and her brothers did. Strange, indeed.

"They are good brothers. They mean well, and that is all that matters." Steadfastly, she defended them.

"Very well, what are they like, these brothers of yours?"

"Well… Amnon is the oldest. He is twenty and five years old. He is rather grave and serious, and less… energetic than my other brothers. Cadeyrn is the middle, and he is twenty and three this summer. Most of the time he is rather quiet, and he likes to read and study. But he's a gifted boxer. That is why I was in the halls of healing today. He and my youngest brother got it in their heads to have a boxing match. It never seems to end well for anyone who isn't Cadeyrn." The queen laughed, her eyes telling Hermia she knew the situation well- most likely from experience.

"Yes. Men do not seem to be content unless they are proving their own manhood to everyone else, no matter what the cost."

"Unfortunately."

"And your youngest brother? What is his temperament?"

"Hamnet is my twin… though no one would know by observing us. He is never serious about anything. He is brash, dramatic, loud… but he means well." Hermia realized in the nick of time that she was making her brother sound bad, and stopped herself. Before the queen could respond, a small, plump woman appeared with a small silver tray balanced on one of her hands. She put the tray down on the table, showing that it held a small, porcelain tea pot and two tea cups, as well as two plates and a small stack of scones.

"Thank you, madam. That is all we require." The woman left again without a word, leaving the two women alone again. "How do you take your tea, Miss. Hermia?"

"Just… a bit of sugar please, my lady." She watched as the queen demurely poured the tea into the two cups, adding sugar to one, and milk and sugar to the other. Lucy handed Hermia's cup to her, taking a sip of her own tea before continuing.

"They certainly must keep you on your toes… how ever to you gain a moment's peace?" Hermia thoughtfully raised her cup to her lips, watching the queen as she took a scone.

"I make them seem quite a bit worse than they really are. They are dears, all of them. I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world."

"No, I dare say you wouldn't. As I wouldn't trade Peter or Edmund, or Susan for that matter."

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea and watching as Hadrian wandered about, watering certain flowers and sometimes leaning in to whisper what looked like words of encouragement to some blooms.

"I think we have had enough of sibling talk," Lucy's melodic voice drifted through the silence, "tell me about yourself."

Hermia sputtered on her tea, caught off guard. "My-myself… what… what is it you would like to know?"

"I did not mean to put you on the spot, dear. What is it you like to do to amuse yourself when you are home?" Not for the first time, Hermia wondered why her queen was so interested in her. She had thought herself perfectly ordinary, and of no particular interest to anyone, let alone a queen.

"I… I enjoy reading. Sometimes I garden, though my gardens are nowhere near as magnificent as these. And my mother is teaching me the art of healing. I am really of no consequence, my lady. Quite boring, really." Lucy's laugh tinkled through the garden, causing Hadrian to lift his head from his work and look at the two women.

"No, you are not boring at all, Miss. Hermia! Quite the contrary. I find myself quite fascinated. What do you like to read? Fiction? Romance? History?"

"I never saw the use in fiction, if I may be so bold, my lady. I prefer books of facts. I could never tire of learning things. But I have never cared much for made up stories about made up people in made up places." Hermia flushed, turning her eyes back to her tea. It was quite different to give her opinion here, when she was alone with the queen, than in a crowded banquet hall with many voices all around her. She was quite sure at once that she had managed to say something to offend the lady queen. But, thankfully, Lucy smiled.

"How unusual. Many women would like nothing more than to read a tale full of romance and adventure. I confess to be a great lover of poetry myself. You say you were never drawn to the subjects?"

"I… I… no, my lady. My nature leads me towards more informational volumes. Though I am sure poetry is lovely."

"It is quite lovely, but I will not scorn your dislike of the subjects. I feel many of us would be greatly improved if we could turn our heads away from day-dreaming and romance and towards learning. Do you read about anything?" Hermia smiled, the conversation coming easier now.

"Anything and everything! My head always leads me to wonder about… well… everything."

"Oh?"

"Yes! Like, just now I was wondering why some pedals of flowers turn red, and some purple, and some yellow. And if the blooms in this garden will bloom all year round, because there is no winter to kill them." Her eyes darted from bloom to bloom as if they would give her the answers she desired, and the queen across from her laughed.

"Yes. We do have a rather extensive library here at the Cair. I am sure there will be books enough there to satisfy your curiosity on any subject. You are welcome there any time you like. And perhaps you will pick up a poetry book or two. You may find you like it more than you think."

"Oh, thank you! And I will, try poetry I mean. I truly didn't mean to slight your choice in reading materials."

"I took no offence. I appreciate your honesty, Miss. Hermia, as well as your natural curiosity."

The pair sipped their tea in silence for a while longer, Hermia's mind turning itself in circles about her situation and the topic at hand. "May I ask one question, my lady?" She said after a while, her voice measured and soft.

"Of course, dear."

"Why… why did you ask me to have tea with you today?"

The queen put down her tea and looked thoughtfully at her for a moment before answering. "I enjoy getting to know my guest very much. Almost as much as I enjoy making new friends. I hoped to get to know you better, Miss. Hermia. Is there something the matter with that?"

"No… no! Not at all. I was only curious, my lady."

"Of course you were. And on that note, unfortunately, I must take my leave. Susan will be wanting me to help her with preparations for the ball tomorrow night. You will be at the ball, will you not?"

Getting to her feet, Hermia nodded. "Yes. Hamnet is excited by the idea of having so many ladies in the same room at one time, so be sure to warn your ladies to steer clear of him." Lucy laughed, taking Hermia's hands.

"I hope I can see you there, my dear new friend." Hermia's heart glowed at being called 'friend' by the queen.

"Me, as well. I thank you for inviting me here, too. It truly is a lovely place." They walked together out of the gardens, pausing at the exit.

"You are welcome to come back any time you like. Now I must take my leave. I will see you soon, dear Miss. Hermia." The queen kissed her cheek quickly before hurrying off, leaving Hermia a bit bewildered. She stood in the passage outside the garden for some time, part of her wondering if it had all been a dream. Hermia had never been prone to fantasies or daydreams, so she was fairly sure what had just occurred was reality. She had tea with a queen. They were friends. She had… been complimented by the queen. Slowly, she turned and began to walk back to the small courtyard where she was sure her brothers had already begun another fight. She needed their comforting presence now to tell her that her world hadn't just turned completely upside down.

* * *

><p>"What do you think, Lucy? Red or blue? The red one is a bit dark for the occasion, but I don't know if the blue fits quite right… " The tall, graceful queen stood before her wardrobe, holding up two gowns for her sister's approval.<p>

"Well… I think the blue looks lovely with your eyes. And I am wearing green, so if you wear the red we will look like a Yule wreath together." Susan sighed, holding the blue gown to her body and looking at herself in the long mirror on the wall beside her wardrobe.

"Are you sure? Don't you think…"

"Susan! You will look lovely in anything you wear. Blue suits you perfectly." Susan sighed again, looking at her sister with a soft expression on her face.

"I'm sorry, Lucy. I know I've been ridicules about this. I just want everything to be perfect."

"Relax, Susan. You've been planning this for months. Everything will be wonderful. Now put the gowns away. The boys are likely to start eating the furniture if we keep them waiting for dinner any longer." Susan laughed and put her gowns back in her wardrobe, before turning back to her younger sister.

"Let us keep them waiting a bit longer. I do love to see the look on Peter's face when we keep him waiting. He's too much of a gentleman to leave without us, but you can always tell it annoys him." Lucy giggled, her hands going up to cover her mouth in a lady-like gesture.

Almost as if answering the comment, there was a short knock at the door. "Enter." Susan called, and the door opened. A dark head peeked itself around the door, looking at the two women inside with an incredulous expression.

"By the lion, sisters. Is your scheme to take so long that Peter and I have to kill and eat each other before we die of starvation?"

"Have some patience, Edmund. We were on our way out. You should know better than to rush a lady." Lucy ran to her brother and took his hand, gently pushing him out of the doorway and back into the sitting room where he and Peter had been waiting, as they usually were. "Oh! I had tea with the sweetest lady today. Her name is lady Hermia, from the island of Doorn. Do you remember her? She's the one with three older brothers." Susan entered the room then, as well, in time to see both of her brothers looking at Lucy with confusion on their faces.

"Oh, Lucy, you honestly don't expect us to remember the name and face of every new maiden at the Cair, do you?" Edmund asked, putting a hand on his forehead.

"Oh… but I thought you might. She has this wonderful light curly hair, and freckles all over her face. But that is of no matter. We became great friends today, and I should like you all to meet her." Edmund removed his hand from hers and put it around her shoulders gently, steering her towards the door.

"Yes, yes. Of course we shall. You may introduce me to every maid in the castle if you wish, as long as I may eat whilst you are doing it." Peter laughed, offering Susan his elbow and following his siblings out of the sitting room. He couldn't help but think he remembered the maid his sister spoke of. In his mind's eye he saw her large, round eyes and her fair, freckled face glowing in the dim light of the dining hall. Was his sister's new friend the girl he remembered? It seemed to be so.

Interesting. Very interesting.

* * *

><p>"A dragonfly can only live for twenty four hours. Oh, how dreadful." Hermia, book in hand, slowly paced the corridors of the castle. "I do wonder if they live full lives, but at a very fast pace. Are they children, then become adults and fall in love, and have children, and then experience old age as we do- all in one day? And I do wonder if it feels so short for them. Perhaps for a dragon fly, twenty four hours seems like a hundred years."<p>

"Speaking to yourself is one of the first signs of insanity, you know." Startled, Hermia's head snapped up, and she clutched the book to her breast. She calmed a bit when she saw that it was just another young woman, perhaps a year or two older than herself, and very tall. She had dark hair- such a dark shade of brown that it was nearly black- a long, narrow nose, full lips, and wide brown eyes. The effect was not unpleasant, if not one of conventional beauty. She had a kind smile on her face, which Hermia returned tentatively.

"My apologies. When I read I often have questions, and I sometimes feel the need to ask them out loud. I am sorry if I disturbed you." The young woman laughed, shaking her head.

"No, not at all. My own sister does the same thing sometimes. But then, I always considered her a bit strange, as well." Unsure of how to reply, Hermia said nothing, looking at the girl and hoping that she had something else to say, lest they be lost forever in awkward silence. "I am Lilith. My family comes from the west of Narnia, where they hid from the white witch and her wand of stone." The girl offered a curtsey in greeting, which Hermia returned.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Lilith of western Narnia. I am Hermia. My family comes from Doorn in the Lone Islands." Lilith's dark eyes lit up at the mention of the Lone Islands.

"Oh, I have always longed to see the islands. Are they very beautiful, like they say?"

"Some of them are. The place where I live, in a small valley by the ocean, is very beautiful. Father built our home away from the main city because he enjoys the quiet. And I cannot imagine the trouble my brothers would get in to if they were to live in the middle of a great deal of people. Is it beautiful where you live?" The young woman shook her head, clutching her hands together in front of her chest.

"No, not particularly. It is mostly forests, plain and ordinary. Though, I do hope to be living in the castle soon enough." Hermia's eyebrows raised at this.

"Oh? Is your family of royal blood?"

"No, no… nothing like that. But surely you must know that nearly every young woman's purpose for being here is to entice one of the kings into proposing. Being the wife of a king is the subject of many fantasies, yours included, I am sure." A little frown crossed Hermia's face, her eyebrows coming together and the corners of her mouth turning downwards.

"Proposing marriage? But… whatever for?"

"For? You mean you haven't thought about it? Come with me, dear Hermia, I will explain it to you." Before she knew what was happening, the tall girl had grabbed her elbow and was pulling her along. "You cannot honestly tell me that you have never dreamed of being a queen, or of having one of our strong, handsome kings as your husband."

"I… I don't quite know. I've never met any of them, you see. How could I dream of marrying someone I've never met?"

"Quite easily. You are a strange creature. Nearly every maiden here talks of little else. The kings Peter and Edmund are the most sought after men in Narnia. Marrying them would not only assure you were taken care of, but you would be a queen- and have a dreadfully handsome husband, as well." Her brows still knitted together, Hermia was deep in thought. Never having been susceptible to girlish daydreams or fantasies, she had truly never thought of herself as a potential bride for a king, or for anyone, for that matter. Her brothers had always made quite sure that she was kept away from any men who weren't family, and to protect her from any information on matters they considered inappropriate.

"But… what if they are dreadful? What if they are horrid, evil-tempered men who don't care for you at all? Wouldn't you rather find someone who you are compatible with? Why does it matter if they are a king?"

"Dear, sweet, innocent Hermia… you are very lucky I found you. Compatibility matters very little. If every woman could afford to marry for love, the world would be a better place. Unfortunately, every woman here is here in the hopes that she will catch the eye of a king, and be able to rise above her own station and make something of herself. It is the way of the world."

"Truly? And that is why you are here? To hope to win the affections of a king you have never met?"

"Well, it sounds very silly when you say it that way. But yes, the main reason, anyway. Why did you come, then, if not in the hopes of ensnaring one of our monarchs?"

"I… I was simply coming along with my family. I have never been without them before, and my brothers would never allow me to stay by myself in our home without one of them. I also was excited by the prospect of meeting other healers, besides my mother and myself. I heard the castle has a whole host of them, you see…" Hermia trailed off lamely, seeing the look Lilith had fixed her with.

"Strange girl. You are a healer, then? How exciting, to have a skill that you can perfect and become a master at. I confess I have nothing I can lay claim to like that."

"I am sure you could. Perhaps you should put your mind to that, instead of trying to catch the eye of some strange king." Lilith laughed, putting Hermia's hand in the crook of her elbow.

"Nay, little friend. My mind is better suited for the flirtations of courtly life. You say you have brothers. Are they handsome?" Taken aback, Hermia sputtered.

"I-I… would not know. I have never had thoughts on the matter. They all seem to think themselves handsome, and they have enough female friends who seem to share the idea."

"You shall have to introduce me sometime. I would like to meet these brothers of yours. How many did you say you have?"

"Three."

"Mercy me. No wonder you know nothing about chasing men. Three brothers would be enough to scare any man away, even from a pretty little thing like you." Her frown deepening, Hermia listened to her new friend's words with part curiosity and part confusion. Hermia found herself liking this girl, regardless of her bold manner and plain way of putting things. Her brothers always found a way to shield her from the truth, as though she was a bloom in the queen Lucy's garden- something to be put in a glass box, watered, looked at, but hidden from the outside world. She found it refreshing to find someone who was willing to tell her things that she could never hear from her brothers. Her curiosity piqued, Hermia continued conversation with Lilith, hoping to learn from her all that she possibly could.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**- So, that's it for now. Next chapter should be out fairly soon, as well. I don't like to put out a chapter without having the next one already written. So be on the lookout for another chapter fairly soon. Until then, I hope you are all having a great day, and don't forget to review!

**Some Review Responses-**

_Doggirllyn_- Your review made me so happy. I'm so glad that you like it, and I am planning on continuing the story even if I don't get reviews. So thank you!

_Lauren_- Thank you! 'No middle term' will come in kind of late in the story, but it will come in.

_Calyn_- I really appreciate the help with dates. I made the Pevensies a bit older in the fic than they would be in the book, but this is taking place around the year 1009, and they will still be leaving Narnia around 1014. And the misspelling for fawn was my mistake… I fixed it in this chapter. Thank you for the help!

_princess emma of narnia_- Is this soon enough? I appreciate your desire for me to update soon. Thank you!

_anonymous_- Thank you! I really try hard to develop the characters thoroughly, and keep them the way I thought they would be in the books. Sadly, there's no Peter/Hermia interaction in this chapter. But quite a bit in the next one, so I hope you enjoy!


	3. Yellow Tulips

**A/N:** A very Hermia heavy chapter. But Peter does sneak in there at the end. Also a bit shorter, I must confess. This is sort of a transition, so please excuse the brevity. I am going to start adding another storyline, so watch for that. Hermia and Peter aren't going to be the only focus of this story for long. But I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

**Chapter Three**

Yellow Tulips

_The meaning of yellow tulips has evolved somewhat, from once representing hopeless love to now being a common expression for cheerful thoughts and sunshine._

HERMIA SAT AT THE SMALL VANITY in her room, a small frown on her face as she moved a hand holding a quill back and forth over a piece of parchment, pausing every once and a while to dip the quill in ink. She wrote for a long while, filling one page, and then another, before a knock at the door of the chamber made her pause. "Yes?" She called, putting the quill back in the ink well, and turning towards the door.

"Oh, you are awake." The door opened, and in stepped a small woman with hair the same corn-silk blonde color as Hermia's. "Your brothers wanted to come and see if you were, but I told them you had probably been awake for hours."

"I have. I rose with the sun this morning. There has been much on my mind." Closing the door behind her, the older woman crossed the room and stood behind her daughter.

"I don't believe I have ever see you without much on your mind. You would not be my daughter if there were not thoughts running through your head at full speed at all times." Smiling softly, Hermia picked up her quill again and penned a few more sentences. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother picking up a brush from the side of her vanity, and felt her taking her hair out of the plait she kept it in for sleeping. "What are you writing, my darling?" Gently, her mother began brushing her unruly hair.

"I am writing to Cecily. So much has happened already, I am afraid of forgetting before I am able to write it all. Tea with the queen! She will never believe it, even though I tell her myself." Laughing, her mother ran the brush from the top of her head to the ends of her long hair, careful to take care of any snags gently.

"You are not prone to deceit, love. Your friend will believe what you say. Though I do confess it does make quite the tale. I would not have believed it myself if it had not come from you."

"And… mother? Did you know there are women here for the sole purpose of marrying one of our kings? Lilith says that they think of little else. Do they really…" Another laugh from behind her, and her mother swept the hairs that were falling into her face back, brushing until the whole mass of hair was soft to the touch.

"Oh, my sweet darling. Your brothers have done a good job making quite sure such thoughts will never come to your mind. Some women simply enjoy the game."

"The game?"

"It is hard to explain. Sometimes men and women play a game with each other. The women will do all they can to entice the men, then let the men chase. The women your new friend spoke of probably enjoy the thought of the being chased by a king."

"It all seems… very silly." Hermia said slowly, picking up the newly finished page of her letter and blowing gently to dry the shining ink.

"I'm sure to you it does, my dear logical daughter. But love is hardly ever logical, and it is very often… silly." Setting the brush aside, the woman went about separating her daughter's large mass of hair into sections, then twisted them in succession around into a knot in the back of her head. "But you cannot tell me that you have never thought of a man in that manner."

Without exactly knowing why, Hermia blushed. "I… what would I… such thoughts do not occupy my mind, no. Not… not usually."

"But I do not think you can deny that our kings are handsome men, are they not?"

"Mama!"

"Is it really so surprising that women would think of them that way?"

"I… no. I suppose I am unused to being in the company of other women. Amnon and Cadeyrn are always chasing the skirts of women, but I thought it was simply a male thing." Laughing again, her mother opened a small drawer under the desk, pulling out a few pins. She carefully began pinning Hermia's hair up, making sure not to push them in too harshly, and making sure to include every curly piece of hair in the knot.

"Yes, my darling, your brothers are a good sample of the way men and women behave… but if I were you I would not observe them too closely. You may learn some things you are not ready to learn." Hermia looked at her mother though the mirror, frown firmly on her face, eyebrows together. Her brothers had always been rather popular with the ladies of her town. Her own friend, Cecily, had been involved with Cadeyrn for a short time. Hermia had always wondered what they got up to when Cadeyrn would take her on long walks into the valley, away from everyone else. When she would ask her other brothers they would simply laugh and tell her not to think of it, with the occasional comment that she didn't understand. Hermia had always been kept in the dark about such matters, with her brothers and father treating her as if she was made of glass- something so fragile that even the smallest bit of sordid information would cause her to shatter. If it hadn't been for her healer training, Hermia was quite sure she wouldn't even know of the anatomical differences between men and women.

Still her mother's comment made her wonder. What _was _ it that her brothers had always hid from her? She had often caught glances of them, stealing kisses from maidens when they thought no one was looking. Or, on one occasion that stuck out particularly in her mind, she remembered coming upon Amnon in a passionate embrace with a young woman, with his hand stuck right down the front of her gown. She had been no more than ten at the time, and had stood frozen to the ground until the maiden noticed her and signaled to Amnon to stop his attentions.

To the day, she still wasn't quite sure what they had been doing. Having one's body pressed up against another's seemed rather uncomfortable. And why would a man want to put their hands down a lady's gown? It was all very confusing, and frustrating. Her natural curiousity could never be sated because when she asked questions about the matter, no one seemed to want to enlighten her. Or, as Hamnet put it, she would have to wait for her husband to enlighten her on their wedding night.

Whatever that meant.

"I don't… what do you mean by that, mama?"

"Nothing, sweetling. Have you decided what to wear to the ball this evening? It's your first one, after all." More pins went into Hermia's hair, defying the curly mass and forcing it into some semblance of order.

"The yellow, I think." Hermia remembered the three gowns her mother had bought for her before leaving Doorn, knowing that she had nothing fine enough for a ball in a king's court.

"A fine choice. I dare say Amnon will have his hands full with scaring men away from you tonight." Blushing, Hermia added a final sentence to her letter, raising the last page to her lips and blowing gently, drying the ink where she had signed her name. "Are you looking forward to your first ball, darling?" Hermia's mother secured her hair with one last pin before gently touching her daughter's cheek.

"I think so. I only hope I don't embarrass myself too terribly." Hermia set about folding the letter in thirds, then dripped a bit of wax from the candle burning on the side of the vanity desk to seal it.

"I can assure you that won't be the case. Come now, love, no doubt your father is ready to cut Hamnet's head from his shoulders by now. We've kept them waiting long enough." Hermia rose and smoothed her dress gently, then followed her mother out of the room and towards the outside world and breakfast.

* * *

><p>Her feet making little noise on the flagstone floor, Hermia walked slowly though the halls of the castle. Breakfast had been an exhausting affair in and of itself, with her brothers arguing over which of them would convince the most ladies to dance with them that night, and her parents doing their best to keep them quiet, but only really succeeding on adding to the noise. Glad when it was over, Hermia stole away to explore the castle, appreciative that she was able to grasp a few moments alone before her mother would whisk her away to start preparing for the ball.<p>

The Cair was a wonderful place, full of wide passages that opened on one or both sides to the sea air, more rooms than she could count, and curious people and things that she couldn't possibly hope to meet and see, but was determined to do so all the same. Her families wing was on the fourth floor of the castle- the fourth of six floors. Most of the rooms on the upper floors were for guests- bedrooms and bathrooms and dressing rooms and sitting rooms. From what the other residents said there was a wing on the fifth floor that belonged to the kings and queens, where their bedrooms and private quarters were. Hermia was sure those were the only places her curiosity wouldn't be satisfied by seeing.

Today she was on the second floor, gently pushing open doors that would give to her, just to see what was inside. She had no fear of trouble, or finding herself somewhere she wasn't supposed to be. The high king had been very clear that his guests were welcome anywhere they wanted. Locked doors were few and far between.

Hermia stopped as she approached a small door on her right, and pushed it open. It gave easily, and she looked in to see what seemed to be a study of some sort- small, with walls that had been fashioned into bookshelves, with a large wooden desk right in the middle. It was empty. Hermia quietly backed out of the room, making sure to close the door once again behind her before moving on again down the passage.

She passed an hour, perhaps more, like this- discovering another study, a solarium, a large sitting room, a handful of small, empty rooms that could have been used for anything at all- before coming to the end of the passage, which culminated in a pair of large wooden double doors. With a large inhale, Hermia put a hand on each of the doors and pushed. They gave easier than she thought they would, causing her to stumble a bit into the room. When she got her footing and realized where she was, Hermia let out an involuntary gasp.

She had found the library.

The small bookshop in the town near her home paled in comparison to this… magnificent room of books. Looking up, she saw that it was two stories high, with rows of books on each side of the long, high room and benches in the middle for sitting while one read. If Hermia had ever put it in her mind to envision a place where she could be happy for the rest of her life, she surely would have come up with something like this. She was quite certain that a library like this could hold a book on every subject imaginable- even a few on subjects she _couldn't_ imagine. She took a few tentative steps into the room, hardly noticing as the doors closed gently behind her. It didn't matter. The wonderful smell of old books filled her nose as she took a deep breath, and she closed her eyes in pleasure.

Slowly she began to pace the length of the massive room, looking down each aisle of books as she passed them. To her delight and utter surprise it seemed as though above each aisle was a label, which detail what subjects the books in that aisle covered. Everything from dragons to welding to spinning to husbandry and biology could be found within the confines of the library, and Hermia's head was spinning by the time she reached the end of the hall and had taken time to read all of the labels above all of the shelves. A person couldn't possibly hope to read a fraction of the books here in their lifetime.

The thought both saddened and emboldened her. She would have to set about working on them almost immediately.

But where to start?

"Hello?" A voice cut through the dusty silence of the library, causing Hermia to jump nearly a foot in the air, her heart beating a frantic tattoo against the inside of her chest. Turning, she found herself face to face- or, rather, face to chest- with a tall, dark-haired man she had never seen before. He must have noticed her scare, for he put his large hands gently on her shoulders to calm her. "My apologies, Miss. I didn't mean to frighten you." Hermia peered up at him sheepishly, slightly ashamed of how easily she had let him startle her. He hadn't even shouted.

"Oh no, not at all. I was just… overwhelmed by the books, sir. The fault is mine for not paying attention." The man took his hands off of her shoulders, looking her square in the eyes with an honest blue gaze.

"'Tis not often there are visitors in this library, especially on such a fine day as this one."

"I can think of no better way to pass a day such as this than in the company of such wonderful volumes as these." Hermia took a step back so as to see past the man and take in the shelves upon shelves of information once again. The man chuckled.

"Indeed? Than allow me to assist you. What is your pleasure? History? Philosophy? Poetry?" He spread out one hand, as if to indicate that he could find her any of these volumes with just a wave of his hand, like a wand. Frowning, she pulled a corner of her lip between her teeth, turning around slowly to read the labels on the walls once again.

"I am afraid that was my dilemma when you came upon me… wherever does one begin?"

"Perhaps you should just pick one, and move through them from there." A small smile quirked his thin lips upwards, showing his amusement at her indecision.

"Oh, I could no sooner pick a favorite star out of the heavens. I am afraid I am rather hopeless, Sir."

"Anath, my lady. Advisor to the High King. Many of my free hours are passed here- it is the one place in the castle the High King is unlikely to visit at random." He raised his eyebrows and grinned at her from beneath his moustache, showing her that he was jesting and not truly insulting his king. "And I find myself in a similar dilemma quite often, though I find myself rather predisposed to tales of history and wars. What you need to do is close your eyes." He slowly waved his hand in front of her face, her eyes closing as he did so. "And now spin yourself around, don't be afraid of looking silly, and stop when you feel it is the right time to do so." She did as he bid her, turning slowly on the spot, very aware of his eyes on her.

Unsure of how many times she had turned fully around, she came to a stop and opened her eyes. She was facing away from Anath, and her eyes fell to the heading above the aisle that she was facing. _Fauna-Flora. _Her eyes widened and a smile crossed her face as she took a few steps towards the shelves in question.

"Seen something interesting, then?"

"Yes… oh, thank you, sir."

"Think nothing of it. I am quite glad to find someone who appreciates these old tomes as I do. I am afraid I must take my leave of you now, my lady. I do hope you find what you are looking for." He gave her a brief bow before exiting the room, his footsteps echoing off the many walls long after his person was gone.

Hermia took a few steps towards the chosen aisle, almost afraid of the sheer amount of information she was facing. When she entered the area between the two shelves she turned her attention to the shelf on her right, running her fingers over the spines of each book, reading the titles with careful consideration. The tip of her pointer finger landed on one in particular- a short, thin book stuck in between two large volumes. Gently she wedged her finger between the heavy books, maneuvering the small text out of its resting place. In small, unassuming letters, the front cover read 'Blooming Flora of Narnia, and Their Meanings'.

"Meanings?" Hermia muttered, opening the book to a random page, her curiosity piqued. "How… fascinating." The text was separated into short paragraphs- some longer than others- of a few words or so, each under the heading of what seemed to be a different flower. Her eyes fell on a random heading, reading: _Love in a Mist_- you puzzle me. A small smile on her face, now, Hermia flipped the pages to the beginning and read the dedication. _To a curious little flower. May you find all you seek._ Not truly smiling, she stepped out from the aisle and began to walk back through the library, her eyes on the first page of the curious little book.

* * *

><p>Whistling an abstract tune, Anath strolled along the corridors of the first floor of the Cair. He relished times like these- when he could allow himself to relax and didn't have to think about wars or trade agreements or the like. His king was at peace, and so was he. Forty years of life had given him quite a bit of experience to draw upon when it came to bad times- most of his life he had lived under the tyranny of the White Witch. It was strange to him that they were living so peacefully, and he couldn't express in words how grateful he was to his kings and queens for brining that peace to them.<p>

It had been a long time since he had been able to walk along and whistle without a care in the world.

His arms swung at his sides, keeping time with his leisurely pace. He thought for a moment about the little blonde he had seen in the library, wondering if she had found something to occupy herself with for the day. It was strange for him to see a maiden who wasn't entirely engaged by what she was going to wear to the ball that night, or whether the king would dance with her. It was refreshing.

Before he could react, something came hurtling down the corridor and crashed into him, effectively knocking him off of his feet. The shriek that followed the fall told him that his assailant was female in nature, and he reacted without thinking. Anath rolled himself over, taking the smaller person with him and in an instant she was off of him, and he was kneeling above her.

"Have you lost your senses?" His good mood gone, Anath's face was twisted in a mixture of consternation and astonishment. Cair Paravel was a slow-paced, peaceful castle. People did not simply run about the halls, careless of who they ran into or where they were going.

"Let me go, you oaf!" Anath's eyebrows rose up in surprise, and he tightened his grip on her shoulder in response. The woman had long, dark hair and large eyes of the same mahogany brown, and both of those large eyes were narrowed at him in anger. Her nostrils were flared, and her mouth was set. Anath did his best to glare back with equal intensity.

"Just what did you think you were doing? You may have killed someone! There is no place you could be going that is so important that you must run through the halls of this castle with no consideration for the others around you." His deep, stern voice seemed to shock her, but the moment he stopped speaking she began to struggle again.

"Let me up you brute! I haven't harmed you in the least, and you are bruising my arm! Just wait until my father-"

"Your father, my lady, will be glad to hear that I taught his impudent little daughter a lesson on how to behave. Get up, then. And no more tearing about the halls like a tornado." He released her shoulder and got himself to his feet, watching as she slowly pushed herself up.

The moment she was vertical, however, she was down once more. "You louse! You've twisted my ankle!"

Sighing, Anath looked down on her. "I have done no such thing. Come, get to your feet and walk about for a moment. The pain will pass." He folded his arms.

"No, you fool! It's really injured! And the day of the ball, too. Oh, how shall I ever dance with the king on a lame ankle?" Rolling his eyes, Anath stooped down and lifted her up, his arms under her shoulder and knees. "What are you doing? Put me down!"

"Can you be anything but contrary? I am taking you to a healer. Mistress Weatherly will wrap your ankle for you, if it really is injured. Perhaps the high king will take pity in your wounded state and pay you special attention tonight." He knew this sort of lady. His king was never wont for female company, though he took his liaisons discretely and without drama. He had known that with the new flood of women to the castle would come a new flood of vying for the kings' attentions, and their crowns. This lady obviously fancied herself a future queen. He snorted. If he had been asked to find anyone less like a queen, he probably could not have found anyone better than the woman he currently had in his arms. The queen Susan would probably abhor her. For a moment he considered telling her this, but he saw the welling of tears in her eyes and decided against it. He could scold, but he disliked making maidens cry. Even maidens who held no consideration for him in return.

She was silent the entire way to the halls of healing, which were thankfully a short walk from where their collision had taken place. He found it a little odd that her seeming violate mouth had been silenced so easily, but he assumed she had simply seen the errors of her ways, or perhaps remembered her etiquette training. Or a little of both. He entered the halls of healing and put her down on the closest bed, not quite as gently as he might have done if he had been in a better temper. "Mistress Weatherly!" He called, his deep voice booming through the hall.

In short order a tall, thin woman appeared, dressed in the traditional white healer robes.

"There is no need to shout, my Lord Anath. Your voice has the tendency to carry no matter what volume you choose to speak at." She gave a small laugh before turning to the quiet woman on the bed. "And what do we have here?"

"We had a small… incident in the corridor. She has injured her ankle." The woman on the bed crossed her arms, but said nothing. Anath raised an eyebrow. He had half expected her to start throwing accusations at him once again. She did not.

"Ah, I see." The old healer looked at Anath for a long moment, before turning to the bed and her new patient. "You may go, Sir. I am sure our king will be missing you ." Anath clicked his heels together and gave her a formal bow, mock saluting.

"Of course, mistress. Don't give her too much trouble, for her injury is grave, indeed." He gave the woman on the bed a lingering look, before turning away.

Before he was out of the halls, he could hear her asking- "Who was that man?"

"That was the lord Anath, our high king's chief advisor. No doubt you will see him again at the ball tonight." Anath laughed out loud as he heard the audible groan from the young woman who had collided with him. He could honestly say he was looking forward to meeting her again just as much as she was looking forward to meeting him.

* * *

><p>Hermia wandered for the rest of the morning, letting her feet carry her wherever they desired, her eyes never leaving her book. It was a quick read. Or, it would have been, if Hermia hadn't paused after each new meaning and thought about the flower, and puzzled over how appropriate the meaning was. Most of them were meant to be interpreted as being given to someone- as though the flower was conveying a message in and of itself, without words. The idea fascinated her. She had been gardening in her little garden, growing small pretty things and the odd vegetable without any thought on if they could mean something.<p>

Engrossed in her reading, Hermia hardly noticed where she was until she happened to glance up, and recognized a small door directly to her left.

The door to the Queen Lucy's garden.

For a moment, she hesitated. What if the queen was there, holding an audience? What if the gardener chastised her and told her queen that she had been where she wasn't supposed to be? But, during their tea the day before, the queen had said she was welcome to visit any time she liked. And She would so like to see some of the flowers she was reading about in person.

Resolve building in her, she put a hand to the door and pushed it open. The rush of sunlight and warm air hit her in the face, making her blink for a moment. She took a step inside, her eyes adjusting to the brightness of it, and shut the door quietly behind her. It seemed to be empty, and just as beautiful as she remembered. She could easily imagine that every kind of flower in the book she was holding could be found here. Immediately she turned back to the book, flipping to the beginning once again to see the first entry.

_Arbutus_- Thee only do I love

It didn't take long for Hermia to find the small, white blossoms growing close to the ground close to the path. She gazed at them for a moment, smiling. "Such a sweet meaning for such a sweet little flower." Hermia turned back to her book, looking at the next entry.

In this manner she lost herself, wondering at each new thing she discovered, and quite forgetting the time or where she was.

That is, until she felt a gentle tapping on her shoulder. Whirling around with a start, she once again found herself nose-to-chest with a tall male figure. Her eyes turned upwards slowly and in an instant she was looking into the ocean blue eyes of the high king.

The book fell from her hand, thudding dully on the stone floor. "My-my lord…" She managed to stammer, dropping into a curtsey and backing away so as not to invade his personal space.

"Good afternoon, my lady."

"I-I am sorry. I seem to have lost track of the time… I did not mean to…" The high king put up a hand, effectively silencing her.

"It is quite alright, there is no harm done. I simply fancied a walk in my sister's garden to clear my head before the ball and wondered if you had lost yourself here." His voice was deep, and clear, sending a bit of a shiver across the back of her neck. She did not rise from her curtsey.

"No.. no, my lord. I only wanted to… to look at the flowers, sir." She finished a bit lamely, not daring to look him in the eyes again.

"You are more than welcome to do so, my lady. Please, rise, that position cannot be terribly comfortable." Obediently, Hermia straightened her back, diverting her eyes to stare down at his feet, unable to keep herself from trembling. It wasn't like her, to quiver before anyone. Growing up with three older brothers, she had been taught that fear wasn't something she could have and easily get away with. Her middle brother, Cadeyrn, had put frogs in her bed when she was seven, after she confessed to being afraid of them. By nature, Hermia feared very little.

Yet, being so close to the legendary high king peter was enough to set her shaking, whether she liked it or not. He was so tall, so large and intimidating. Next to him she felt very small and insignificant- more so than she had ever felt before. Before she had a chance to do anything else, she felt something on the underside of her chin. It was pressing her face slowly upwards, and she had no choice to comply.

In a moment she realized that he had put a hand under her chin, and was lifting her face up to meet his eyes. His hand was large and warm, easily cupping the underside of her face with its long fingers. Her face was now tipped up to look at his, but she still refused to meet his eyes, focusing instead on the neatly trimmed hairs of his beard. The blonde scruff framed his full mouth perfectly, suiting him in a most unsettlingly handsome way. She could now see what her mother meant when she had called the king a handsome man.

"Please, it is not my wish that you fear me. What is your name, lady?" His mouth made pleasant shapes as he spoke, rounding with his vowels and tipping up at the end of his sentence in a small smile. Never before had she ever looked at a man's mouth like this- and it was causing her heart to pound heavily in her chest. Her breath caught in her throat as he ducked his head a bit, catching her eyes suddenly. They were blue- clear, bright, ocean blue- and looking into her eyes with such honesty that it made her heart pound all the faster. She couldn't think of words to describe the king's eyes other than _honest._ They were large and open and didn't seem to be hiding anything- as though anyone who wanted to look would be welcome to any secrets they held. Hermia blinked and looking away. Or, she tried to look away, before the hand under her chin stopped her.

"I-I am Hermia, my lord. Forgive me, I must…" She broke away from him as quickly as she could, and brushed past him. If she had not been breed to know better, she would have taken off running. As it was, she walked as fast as her legs would carry her back to her rooms where she sat for the remainder of the afternoon, thinking about what had happened until her mother came to help her prepare for the ball. All the while her heart thumped rapidly in her chest, as if she had been running all morning and afternoon. And she couldn't seem to rid her head of the image of his honest blue eyes.

* * *

><p>Peter stood, stunned, in his sister's gardens, watching the pale haired woman walk away from him. It had been a strange encounter, above all else. He was unused to coming upon women in his sister's garden, at least, women whom he hadn't before become acquainted with. No one knew of the gardens here but his family, his servants, and the few close friends who Lucy had invited here.<p>

He stopped himself there.

He knew that he recognized the woman, at least from her wild hair and blue eyes. His brain was busy making the connection- could it be that this had been the selfsame woman who had captured his attention at the feast, who his sister had invited to tea the day before? It seemed to be so.

But she had run before he could inquire about the matter. At least he had gotten her name. _Hermia._ It suited her, and it seemed to ring a little bell in the back of his mind. Was this the name of the new friend that Lucy had mentioned?

His mind turning in circles, Peter looked about him for any sign of a gardener- anyone, really, who would have witnessed the exchange. There was no one. He was rather unused to women running away from him. In fact, his years as king had been characterized by women running _to_ him, quite enthusiastically. He had grown used to the idea that the women of the court found him handsome and charming, and would most likely give their right arm to be caught in the queen Lucy's gardens alone with him. Not that he would ever use that fact to his advantage.

At least, not often.

Sighing softly, Peter glanced at his feet before moving on along the path. There, on the stones, lay a little book- the book that had distracted the woman so much that she hadn't even noticed his approach. Stooping, he picked it off the ground and observed its cover. _The Blooming Flora of Narnia and Their Meanings_. Peter had never been much of a reader, or an academic. He knew the library in his castle was vast, but had never set himself to exploring it. His siblings did that well enough for all of them. It was not so surprising, then, that he had never encountered this book before. Curious, he flipped open the pages, reading the first passage the caught his eye.

_Tulips (yellow)_- There is sunshine in your smile.

Without meaning to, Peter smiled. Curious, that such a book could hold the attentions of a young woman so thoroughly. Closing the book, he moved along the path, his eyes scanning the flower beds for any trace of yellow tulips.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well, that's it for this chapter. I am trying to make the relationships develop as naturally as possible, so forgive me if there are no declarations for quite some time. I promise that Hermia is not as meek and frightened as she seems. Peter's an intimidating guy. Next chapter will be the first ball, and I have a feeling it's going to be a doosey. Until then, please don't forget to review!

**Some review responses-**

_Doggirllyn-_ I really appreciate a second review! I do hope to keep the chapters coming quickly, as my muse seems to be co-operating rather nicely at the moment. I'm glad you like Hermia! I've really taken a lot of time making sure she's not the Mary Sue you see in so many stories. Was their first interaction up to par? I thought it was sweet, in a quick and confusing sort of way…

_Lauren_- Hermia's family is one of my favorite families I have written. I especially adore Hamnet, in case you couldn't already tell. I've put a lot of work into making him as ridiculous as possible. I hope it shows!


	4. Ivy Geranium

**A/N:** Here's the first ball. It's really a marathon of a chapter. I considered splitting it into two, but I sort of like having long chapters… let me know if you disagree with me. I'm going to be putting pictures up on the blog I have for this story with gowns and some other things, so be sure to check it out. The link is in my profile. I hope you enjoy! And I really appreciate the reviews. They mean the world to me.

Xoxo,

Woods

**Chapter Four**

An Ivy Geranium

"YOU LOOK LOVELY." From behind where she stood, Hermia's mother adjusted the few wisps of hair that hung about her face, having sprung free from their confinement at the base of her head. Hermia looked at himself in the tall mirror on the wall of her room, unsure. The yellow-gold gown she had chosen for the occasion was flattering, but much more extravagant than anything she would wear in her day to day life. Her mother had told her that was the point of a ball- to give one the chance to wear things and do things that they wouldn't normally do.

She still felt out of place.

The gown itself was made of a smooth satin material, shining faintly in the light of the chamber. It left her shoulders bare, the neckline cutting straight across her chest and forming two small sleeves that fell off her shoulders. It clung to her torso snugly, thanks to much pulling at the laces in the back by her mother, then fell into gathered and bunched cascades to the floor. It fit her marvelously, and revealed quite a bit more of her body than she had ever felt comfortable revealing. She blushed as she turned around to observe the back of the gown, seeing the smattering of freckles across the back of her neck and shoulders.

"Are you quite sure I don't look a fool? This kind of dress can hardly be sensible."

"I do believe, my darling dear, that is the point. You won't need sensible clothes tonight. You need only look beautiful and dance when a young man asks you to. I believe you are very capable of both those things." Her mother looked lovely as well in a gown of flowing green and gold velvet and silk. But then, Hermia always thought her mother was lovely.

Just then there was a knock at the door, and Hermia's father's head appeared in the crack of the open door. "_Your sons_," the man grumbled, "have insisted they will come in here themselves and carry the both of you to the ball if you are not ready soon. I felt the need to warn you ahead of time. Hamnet seems rather determined." Laughing, Hermia's mother put a hand on her daughter's waist and guided her forward.

"Thank you, my love. We were just leaving, anyway. Does our daughter not look lovely, Orestes?" The man opened the door all the way, grinning as he took in his wife and daughter.

"Lovely. Every day I ask myself how I found myself so lucky to have not one, but two beautiful ladies in my life." He extended an arm, indicating that they should exit before him. The two women entered the sitting room and Orestes closed the door behind them. Hermia's three brothers stood waiting, Hamnet looking mutinous.

"There you are at last, mother! I was afraid we were going to have to send a search party for you! We knew Hermia's hair couldn't possibly take that long to get it looking decent." Hermia shot a glare at her twin, folding her arms.

"Don't let Hamnet bother you, sister. You look lovely." Amnon stepped forward and took Hermia's hands, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "But I believe we have stalled long enough. If I may, dear sister?" He gave a mock bow and offered her his arm, which she accepted quietly, glad to have Amnon with her. He and her father had always been pillars or strength for her- she was quite sure she would be floundering without their presence.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Hamnet giving a mock bow to Cadeyrn, who knocked him upside his head. The family left the sitting room in as orderly a fashion as possible, Orestes giving a stern word to his two younger sons to behave. Hermia leaner her head against her brother's upper arm, taking in the mix of familiar and new. She had been living among such familial bickering all her life, and in this new setting it was rather comforting. It was as though they were a warm blanket she could draw about herself to stop from feeling quite so exposed.

The grand ballroom was the only place strictly off limits -other than the monarch's private wing- due to the preparations being made for this night all throughout the week. It was on the ground floor of the castle, on the side facing the sea, and taking up nearly all the space that wasn't dedicated to the great hall or the dining hall.

Hermia wasn't quite sure where they were going, but Amnon seemed to, and quite soon a few people appeared in the corridor who also seemed to be going to the ball. Hermia felt a little better when she saw young women in gowns like her own, but wondered if they felt as exposed as she did, or if this came completely natural to them.

Hermia noticed, then, that they seemed to be heading towards a large pair of double doors which she had never noticed before. Amnon led her steadily and calmly towards the doors, hardly giving Hermia a chance to collect herself before they were through them.

The sight that greeted her took her breath away.

There was music suddenly, which she hadn't noticed until just now, filling her ears and surrounding her on all sides. They were standing on the landing of a great staircase with steps that led down to the ballroom on each side. The room itself was massive and round, and everything seemed to be either marble or gold or some wonderful combination of each. Pillars lined half of the round room, affording a little space for people to converse apart from the dancers. The other half of the walls were giant windows and glass doors, giving a brilliant view of the night sky and the sea below. The doors seemed to lead to a balcony that stretched the length of the windowed half of the room.

And the people- there were people everywhere. Women wore glittering gowns in every shape and color, and the men all looked more dashing than usual in their best clothes.

So _this_ was a ball.

"Are you quite alright?" Amnon's voice in her ear, his breath tickled her as he spoke. His question snapped her out of her daze, and she looked up at him.

"Oh, yes. It's all very… large. I hadn't quite expected it to be like this. In fact, I don't quite know what I expected. Why are we doing this again?" Amnon simply laughed and patted his sister's hand that was resting in the crook of his elbow.

"I'm sure you will see it's not as bad as all that. Dance with me, sister." Hermia had little choice but to obey him and let him lead her down the stairs- quite a feat in and of itself, due to the bulk of her dress. They managed to reach the dance floor just as a song was ending. The orchestra, which Hermia could see was seated against the staircase, below the landing, struck up another song- a slow, steady waltz. Glancing around, Hermia saw that her two other brothers had already found themselves partners. _They truly waste no time_, she thought wryly. Hamnet was leading his partner- a rather voluptuous young woman- recklessly through the dance floor. She seemed to be enjoying herself, laughing with good humor as they pushed past other couples, making their own space and path.

She allowed Amnon to take up her hand, a put a hand at her waist. Her eyes darted around the room, doing their best to take in every sight they could. Amnon began moving them slowly, allowing Hermia to keep time and still look about. There were so many people present who she had never seen before- and more than just people. A few fauns were among the crowd, dancing with ladies, careful not to trod on anyone's feet with their hooves. A few centaurs, too, though they weren't partaking in the dancing. They simply stood by the pillars, watching and conversing with anyone who would stand long enough to speak to them.

Hermia had never spoken to a centaur before. She wondered what they would be like.

Once again she was glad for Amnon. Hermia took her eyes off of her surroundings and looked up at her brother, smiling faintly at the frown that had crossed his face. He had always been the most contrary of her brothers, and she had been waiting for his normal dark mood to come back across him. Though still quite young, he had the beginnings of frown lines around his eyes and mouth, marring his handsome face. His two younger brothers had already given him enough grief for a lifetime. Yet he had always been closest to Hermia, sure to keep her from harm and danger, and to protect her from Cadeyrn's carelessness and Hamnet's pranks.

His presence was always comforting.

She hadn't told anyone about her run in with the high king earlier that evening. Hermia was quite sure that upon hearing that she had been alone with a man under uncontrolled circumstances Amnon would allow himself to fly into a fury that wouldn't be satisfied until he had gotten to the bottom of the situation- which usually commenced in him letting Cadeyrn knock down the subject of suspicion.

Hermia was sure their welcome would be worn out if her middle brother knocked down the high king.

* * *

><p>Anath preferred to watch the dancers than to be among them. He had never been much for gallivanting about, even when he had a partner. And on the occasions when he didn't have a partner he still preferred to stand on the outskirts of the dance floor, watching the younger men and women twirl about and fall in love and play their silly games. Anath could never consider himself silly.<p>

Leaning against a pillar near the top of the room, he kept his eyes on the activity. His kings and queens were not among the crowds as of yet- they would make their grand entrance later. Until then he was content to watch. The queen Lucy always insisted on him dancing with her at least once at these sorts of things, and he could never refuse her. He folded his burly arms across his chest, watching as the men spun the women, gowns glittering and skirts whirling. Then, the crowd separated just so, allowing him to see clean across the hall for a brief moment. He sighed. There was a lady sitting against a pillar in a beautiful burgundy gown, looking lovely but all together put out. Anath recognized her immediately.

He hadn't allowed his thoughts to stray to the young woman he had run into that afternoon in the hall. She had been such a foolish, careless woman. And so focused on his king, and nothing else. The moment he had left her in the infirmary he had quite forgotten about her. But seeing her now, the only young woman sitting down in a hall full of women her age enjoying themselves… it made his sense of empathy reach out to her.

No doubt she had been looking forward to this night for months. It was rather unfortunate that she had to sit it out, even if he felt she had earned it.

Anath pushed himself away from the pillar and made his way around the room, careful to keep away from the dancers so as to avoid another disaster like the one he had found himself in earlier. The lady didn't look up at him as he approached, only noticing his presence after he spoke. "I see the mistress Weatherly has ordered you to sit the ball out. How… unfortunate." She turned her sharp brown eyes upon him.

"You don't have to sound so pleased about it."

"My apologies, my lady. I had meant to state a fact, not express any… particular joy at your condition. In fact, I mean what I said. It is rather unfortunate. Our high king will miss your presence on the dance floor, I am quite sure." He couldn't help the slightly snide comment that escaped him, knowing it would jibe at her.

"Oh, away from me you foul beast! Why did you come here if you were only going to tease me? I feel awful enough as it is. And it's all your fault I'm like this, at any rate."

"I don't see how any of this is my fault? Why, if not for me you would still be laying in that corridor with a twisted ankle."

"If not for you I wouldn't have twisted it in the first place!"

"The way you were tearing about a twisted ankle could have been the least of your injuries. Where were you running to, anyway? What was so important that you were willing to risk life and limb to get to it?"

"I… I was running from someone, if you must know. But that is none of your business!" _From someone? Curious,_ Anath thought as he looked at the lady in the chair.

"And just who-"

"I said it was none of your business, did I not? Leave me be."

"So hostile. I'm afraid you'll never ensnare our king if you choose to behave like that." She merely 'humph'd and crossed her arms, turning her body away from him. Anath knew that he had overstayed his welcome, if he had ever had a welcome at all, and turned to take his leave. He didn't know what possessed him to engage her in conversation in the first place. He was a forty year old man. He was mature and wise. What did he think he was doing, bating a young woman who was probably half his age?

Shaking his head, Anath returned to his place at the pillar he had been beside before, waiting for the clock to strike nine and his kings and queens to arrive. Every so often he would throw a glance at the woman sitting all on her own in a chair. If he hadn't known of her bad temper he would have felt bad for her again. But now he knew better.

A centaur approached him, then, and he found himself engaged in conversation, blessedly taking his mind off of the infuriating woman with an injured ankle.

* * *

><p>"Stop your fussing, Susan, you look lovely." Peter put a hand on his oldest sister's shoulder, causing her to take her hands away from the skirt of her gown and look up at him.<p>

"I can't help but think that you men have it easy. No one is judging you on your attire. The air headed women in this castle would probably think you were devastatingly handsome if you were wearing a potato sack." Peter grimaced, knowing that she was probably right, but not wanting to admit it.

"I have yet to meet a man, Susan, who was not immediately enamored by your beauty," Edmund cut in. "If you have, by all means show him to me. I would like to meet such a man, perhaps offer him my eternal friendship. Honestly, Su. The way you behave you'd think everyone spent their days telling you how plain and unattractive you are."

At this Susan had the grace to blush, and said nothing. Lucy cleared her throat. "Now that we have established that we all look lovely, can we please go? It is nearly nine!" Peter laughed at his youngest sister's eagerness and put an arm around her.

"Yes, let's all go. I think a bit of dancing will do us all some good. Especially Edmund. Having a pretty girl in his arms always seems to make our brother more amiable."

Rolling his eyes, Edmund led the group out of the sitting room where they had gathered, and down the hall. As Peter walked he could feel the small book in the inside pocket of his vest, thudding lightly against his heart. It reminded him of the maiden he had seen earlier that day in his sister's gardens. He had spoken to Lucy later about her, and discovered that it was indeed the same woman his sister had made friends with before. He hoped he would see her at the ball. He needed to return her book… and he was quite sure he just wanted to see her again, if only to ask why she had run from him.

Yes, only to ask what it was he had done to frighten her so.

Nothing more.

The book thudded against his heart, telling him without words that he shouldn't lie to himself. Her blue eyes haunted him, as did her face, her beautiful hair, her shape… _she_ was imprinted to his brain as no one had been before. When he truly thought about it there was very little about her that was very significant. She was no more or less attractive than any other women in his court.

And she had _freckles._

Peter remained lost in his thoughts until they reached the great double doors that opened to the grand ballroom. Susan appeared beside him and he offered her his arm, reaching up to be sure that his crown was still in place. It had become like a part of him over the nine years he had been king, yet sometimes it felt a little strange, having a heavy gold object on his head. "Let's go, then." Edmund said from behind Peter and Susan, signaling the high king to enter the ballroom.

When the monarchs appeared at the top of the staircase a hush fell over the crowd. Couples stopped dancing and stood, staring. Peter led Susan down the right side of the grand staircase, Edmund and Lucy went down the left. The orchestra was still playing, giving the royal siblings a background for their entrance as they reached the dance floor. People bowed low as they passed, sending a ripple though the crowd as they made their way along the rounded wall to the back of the ballroom.

Edmund and Lucy met Peter and Susan on the opposite side of the room, and they all stood together until the dancing resumed. As soon as it did, Lucy turned to her siblings. "I must find Mr. Tumnas. He has promised me the first dance!" And like that, she was gone. Peter smiled after her, glad that she was enjoying herself.

"Dance with me, Susan. Let's leave Peter to the wolves." Much to Peter's consternation Susan laughed and took Edmund's hand, and the two disappeared among the sea of gowns. He stood for a moment, agog, but it didn't take long for someone to approach.

"My king!" A familiar young man was on his right, and bowed. Peter returned the gesture.

"Young Lord Hamnet, yes? Are you enjoying the ball, my lord?" He asked the young man, who was a bit flushed in the face from the activity. He remembered Hamnet from the feast- the blonde man's honest and bright attitude stuck in his mind. He had liked the young man from their first meeting, and was glad to have someone to speak to who wasn't obviously vying for his affections or his crown.

"Immensely! It is a grand sight better than any party the Witch ever gave, that I am sure of." Peter frowned and looked at the young man, who was certainly much too young to have been very old when the White Witch was ruling Narnia, much less to have attended any party she might have given- assuming she ever gave them.

"Were you in the habit of attending the White Witch's parties then, Lord Hamnet?"

"At least once a week, my king. They were always so grand, if a bit cold and… stony." There was a beat, in which Peter looked at Hamnet as though he had grown an extra head. Then he recognized the joke and threw back his head, laughing loud enough to make the people nearest them stop their conversations and look at their king. Peter was slightly ashamed that he hadn't realized the youth was joking, and he noticed a glint in Hamnet's eyes as he looked back at him.

"My apologies, my lord. I am afraid jokes are few and far between in the Cair. My own brother wouldn't know one if it bit him on his-"

"Arse?"

"Yes."

"There is no harm done, your majesty. I have a brother like that myself. See him there-" Hamnet pointed, then, to a tall broad man who was just happening to pass by, a young woman in his arms. A small young woman with white blonde hair. His heart gave an involuntary thump. "Dancing with our lady sister." She was their sister? How could he have forgotten? "Amnon couldn't catch a fit of good humor if threw itself into his arms. See how he scowls, even as our sweet sister smiles at him? A lost cause, to be sure." Peter was half listening, watching as the brother and sister twirled away. The object of his unwilling fascination had three brothers- three older brothers, if he wasn't mistaken. By Aslan, what had he gotten himself into?

"How disagreeable."

"Indeed." Peter looked back at the youth, then, willing himself not to get caught staring at his sister. As amiable as he seemed to be, he was quite sure Hamnet would have the same reaction to Peter looking at his sister as Peter had whenever he caught a young man with his eyes on Lucy. He did not want to be on the receiving end of anything of the sort. Hamnet looked past Peter for a moment, before raising an arm. "Father!" Peter turned and followed the young man's gaze, his eyes falling on a tall man who was now approaching in response to his son's call.

He was a large man, not diminished by age, with graying brown hair and blue eyes that he recognized. While he had given his build to his sons, his eyes had been a gift only for his daughter. The older man saw who his son was speaking to and bowed when he was close enough. Peter bowed as well, then extended a hand for the man to shake. If he remembered, Hamnet's father was a knight from the island of Doorn. An equal, then, in all but title. Peter even felt inferior, for a moment, as the older man gripped his hand with the firm heartiness of a man afraid of nothing. _A man with three sons and a pretty daughter might well have nothing to fear. All of his worst fears have already been realized._ Peter thought dryly as he let the man's hand go.

"My king! I hope my youngest son has not been making himself a nuisance. He has quite a habit of forgetting his head and letting his tongue fly away from him." The stern look in the man's eyes spoke of many years and experience with his son's troublemaking. It wasn't a stretch for Peter to believe that the young lord Hamnet wasn't a paradigm of piety. He made no effort to hide his wicked nature, which Peter admired.

"Father! It hurts me that you would think such a thing of me. The high king and I were merely sharing our woes of having such serious brothers."

"And with who am I to share my woes at having such difficult sons? Oh, that you were all like your sister, my troubles would be cut in half, as would the grey hairs on my head!"

"If each of us were like Hermia, father, we would all be set up in the sitting room right now, our noses in books and spouting off uninteresting facts. Surely you don't wish that."

"What a low opinion you seem to have of your own sister, Hamnet." Peter remarked, catching sight of her light blonde head once again through the crowd.

"You mistake me, my lord. My sister is the manifestation of all that is good and sweet in the world. I was simply remarking on how dreadfully boring it would be to have a family full of people who were all sweet and quiet as dear Hermia."

"Boring, perhaps, but blessedly peaceful. If I may be so bold as to give you a piece of advice, my king?" The older man scowled at his son for a moment, before turning kinder eyes on Peter. He couldn't get a good sense of what kind of man this was- he seemed entirely possessed of a bad temper, yet capable of being utterly pleasant. Perhaps the weight of having three sons had hardened him. Not that Peter could place any blame on the man.

"My all means."

"Have daughters." Once again, Peter found himself throwing his head back with laughter.

* * *

><p>The end of a song came, and Hermia, panting slightly, looked up at her brother. "I am afraid I must request a respite, brother. My feet are not used to all of this dancing at one time, I'm afraid they will run away from me if I keep them moving any longer." Amnon graced his sister with a smile.<p>

"Of course, sister. I hadn't meant to keep you prisoner on the dance floor." Using the hand still on her waist, Amnon gently guided her though the couples who were waiting for the next song to begin. When they reached the edge of the room, Hermia's eyes lighted on the woman sitting in a chair along the wall and let out a gasp.

"Oh, Amnon, I've just seen a friend. Do find some pretty lady to dance with while I speak to her. And try to smile." She put a hand affectionately on his cheek and he tilted one of the corners of his mouth up at her, a clear sign of adoration from Amnon. Hermia broke away from her brother and walked as quickly as she could towards the woman in the chair. She looked up as Hermia approached. "Lilith! Whatever are you doing in a chair? I thought you of all people would be dancing, with one of our kings or someone of similar disposition."

"Dear Hermia! It was so awful. I ran into this brute of a man earlier today, and we toppled over, and it left my ankle quite twisted and useless. It's been so awful, just sitting here." Her new friend looked so dramatically dejected at that moment that she was reminded for the briefest of seconds of her twin brother, Hamnet, in a fit of melodramatic passion. Her crimson gown was so large and beautiful that it was almost caricatured by her seated posture, ballooning ridiculously around her midsection and making her look a bit like a great wind was blowing from beneath her, inflating her skirts from below.

"Twisted, you say? Did the healer give you a salve for it and wrap it tightly?" She couldn't resist the question, even though she knew Lilith wouldn't want to talk about things like that while they were at a ball.

"Yes, twisted. Badly enough to keep me from participating tonight, yet not badly enough to keep me from actually _going_. So here I am. And she did give me a salve- a horrid, hot one that made me feel as if my ankle was on fire." Hermia nodded, torn between her knowledge of propriety and her desire to inspect her friend's ankle for herself. In the end, her propriety won out. "But no more of that. Tell me what you have been doing. Have you see the king yet? They've been here for over a quarter hour. I saw the king Edmund as he passed with his sister, but he's not nearly as handsome as his brother, not in my opinion at least. Has anyone danced with him yet? Were they beautiful?"

Lilith's questions brought back the image of Peter in the gardens, holding her chin with his large hands, his wide, honest blue eyes looking at her with such gentle inquisition. "No, I haven't seen him. Not at the ball, at least." She didn't know what made her add the last part, for the second it escaped her lips she regretted it. Lilith's eyes, which had previously been scanning the crowd in search of the high king, now snapped to Hermia's face.

"You have seen him otherwise? Have you been keeping secrets from me, Hermia?"

"No! It only happened this morning, you see…"

"_What_ only happened this morning? You have been keeping things! Do tell me what happened, and leave nothing out."

"There's very little to tell. I was in the queen Lucy's garden, and he happened upon me. It was nothing of consequence."

"You were in _queen Lucy's _gardens and the _high king_ happened upon you and you think this is nothing of consequence? Hermia, I can't remember anything with _more_ consequence happening ever before. What else?" The hunger in Lilith's eyes was evident. Hermia once again marveled at her strange desire to know everything possible about their high king. He was a man, just like any other. She had grown up with four men, and they were scarcely different from her, except perhaps a bit more troublesome and a bit more rambunctious. Hardly worth close study or bother.

Lilith seemed to think differently.

"He's a very… nice king." It sounded bad, even as she said it. She knew that their high king was more than _nice_. He was King Peter the Magnificent. He had delivered them from the tyranny of the White Witch, and had made Narnia a happy and inhabitable place for its people once again. Nice was not a word used to describe their king.

"And?"

"It's a very nice ball." The inquisition was uncomfortable. She knew that Lilith wanted her to spout off romantic details, perhaps how he had taken her into his arms and… whatever a man did when he took a woman into his arms. Perhaps how he had taken one look at her and declared his undying love for her. Perhaps if he had asked after Lilith, or mentioned her in some way. None of these things had happened, and she didn't want to disappoint her friend.

"And… the king?"

"Well, he's tall." Hermia remembered feeling entirely dwarfed by the man, both in height and girth. Just like nice, 'tall' didn't seem like quite the right word to describe him.

"Is that all? Is he charming, they say that he's charming."

"He has charm for a king, I suppose." She acquiesced, remembering the blue of his eyes. Charming? She couldn't say for sure. She didn't quite know what constituted charming, and she probably wouldn't know it when she saw it. Had she been charmed by him?

"You suppose?" It was clear that Lilith was getting frustrated now, desperate for something to sink her teeth into.

"I haven't exactly met a wide range of kings. He was the first." Lilith sighed before continuing.

"Did he bow? Was he cold, or polite?" She seemed to be leading Hermia on now, asking yes or no questions to get as much information out of her as possible. It was as though the young woman had turned into a succubus, sucking every bit of the experience out of Hermia to sustain herself in her seclusion.

"It was all very strange…"

"Did he speak? Did he flirt? Could you tell right away he was royalty? Is he sensitive, clever, well-mannered, considerate, passionate, charming, as kind as he's handsome, as wise as he's rich? Is he everything you've ever wanted?" The questions came in a flood, making Hermia's head spin. She was quite used to asking questions of others, and it was very different having the tables turned and being the subject of interrogation. She latched on to the last question. How was she to know if he was what she wanted? Did she know what she wanted? Did she have to want anything? Hermia had always been rather content with her life, learning the healing trade and reading and caring for her brothers. She had never really had a lofty hope, something to think about each day and dream about and wish for. Did one have to have such a thing to really know what they wanted?

And how did one know that what they were wishing for was really what they wanted? What would happen if their wish came true, and it was dreadful?

It seemed like a dreadfully messy business.

"Would I know?" She asked carefully, noticing her friend's eyes boring into her.

"Well, I know." Folding her arms, Lilith looked back at the dance floor. Hermia considered her friend for a moment. Did she really wish for nothing that for this king to notice her? Were many women like this? She suddenly felt very behind, and rather confused. How did she know that she wanted this thing do badly? She didn't even know if she liked the king.

"But how can you know what you want until you get what you want, and see if you like it?" The question made Lilith turn her head again, looking at Hermia as though she had asked her why they were able to breathe the air around them, or why they stayed put to the ground and didn't float up into the air.

"Would I know?" The question echoed Hermia's from a moment before, and the two girls stared at each other for a moment.

"He's a very nice king." Hermia offered lamely, knowing that she was failing at the role of friend, and failing miserably. Lilith sighed, her look softening.

"What I wouldn't give to be in your shoes." There was such longing and sadness in her voice that Hermia was taken aback. She couldn't help but think there was something about her friend that she couldn't see, that Lilith wouldn't show her. Hermia had always thought that she knew quite a bit about the world. Looking at Lilith, and her wistful brown eyes, she realized that she knew so very little. The only thing she could hope to do was learn.

"You do look quite lovely, though. I'm sure the king would be quite taken, were he to see you." Lilith sighed again, looking away.

Hermia's eyes wandered with her friends, skirting the edge of the magnificent ballroom, watching the energetic dancers fly by. They landed, after a moment, on four figures standing on the outskirts of the dance floor. Four men, all of whom she recognized. It was her father, with his back to her, and two of her brothers, Hamnet and Cadeyrn, speaking to… the high king. "Oh, dear…" She muttered, walking quickly towards the four men and quite forgetting her poor friend, who was left looking after her quite confused.

Hermia approached her brothers, her heart in her chest. She didn't know what they were talking about, but she was quite sure the situation itself couldn't be good. If Peter so much as mentioned seeing her earlier that day, Hamnet would be at him before the king could get out another breath. She knew that Cadeyrn and her father could show more restraint, but Hamnet had no sense of shame, and his sense of propriety was liable to be thrown out the window at the slightest provocation. Hermia couldn't believe that their monarchs had been in the ballroom for only a quarter hour, and not only had her family managed to corner the high king, but they would probably end up getting them all thrown out.

"I do wish," Cadeyrn was saying as she approached, "that you would participate in the hand-to-hand combat in the tournament, my lord. I am quite sure you would give me more competition than Hamnet does." Hermia put a hand on her father's elbow, alerting him to her presence. When she heard the topic of their conversation she was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Of course they were talking about fighting. There were times when she was sure her brothers thought of little else.

"I don't think the high king wants to allow himself to be pounded into mince meat like Hamnet does." Hermia interjected, her eyes falling on her twin, who still had a slight shadow of a bruise under his eye from his sparring session with Cadeyrn earlier that week. Cadeyrn was thinner and a few inches shorter than the king, but Hermia knew he had an unpredictable lithe strength and quickness that few could match. Unless the high king was a proficient boxer, he would probably end up with bruises similar to Hamnet's.

The moment she spoke the four men looked at her. She could feel the blue eyes of the king on her, boring into her, but she refused to look at him.

"I'm afraid your sister is correct. My skills are with a sword, not with my hands. My captain, on the other hand, will be more than happy to oblige you, I am sure." The high king spoke, and Hermia was brought back to her conversation with Lilith. Was this charming? He was certainly polite. His voice was rather pleasant to listen to, as well. She felt obligated to pay more attention from now on, in case Lilith wanted to interrogate her again.

Before anything else could be said, another person joined their group. "Oh! My dear friend Hermia! I am so glad to see you." The young queen, looking lovely in a spring-green gown, her golden hair intricately braided with yellow flowers. She pushed her way gently though the small crowd and caught Hermia in a tight embrace, which she returned with pleasure. Though she was unsure about her feelings on the high king, Hermia was very sure that she liked the queen Lucy. It was rather hard to dislike her- she seemed to exude brightness and joy out of her every pore.

When she pulled away, the queen looked at her brother. "Peter! I've come to ask you to dance with me. Anath is nowhere to be found, and Edmund is still dancing with Susan." It was clear that these three men, Peter and Edmund and Anath (whose name she recognized as the man she had met earlier that day in the library), were her regular dance partners at these sorts of functions. Hermia chanced a glance at the high king, who was smiling at his younger sister. He looked rather different than he had in the garden that morning. He had donned a golden velvet tunic that complimented the yellow of his hair and the tan of his skin quite well. The effect was striking, and Hermia thought that she could understand a bit better why women were so obsessed with being near this man.

"Of course, sister. Gentlemen, I thank you for your company, but duty calls. My lady." The high king addressed Hermia, giving her a bow and catching her completely off guard. His eyes met hers for a fraction of a second as he rose from his bow, and Hermia felt something run through her- though she didn't quite know what.

The royal siblings left them, and Hamnet turned on his sister. "Friends with the queen Lucy, Hermia?"

"We had tea." Hamnet looked at her, agog, but she ignored him. "Will you dance with me, Cadeyrn?" Her middle brother looked down at her for a moment, before nodding. Hermia took his arm and allowed him to lead her away from her twin and her father, and back among the dancers.

"I do not like the way he looked at you." Cadeyrn stated, taking up his position with a hand at her waist, taking her right hand in his.

"Hamnet? He always looks like that, as though I've grown an extra head. I don't see why that should be-"

"Not Hamnet, the king."

"Oh, I did not notice him looking in any particular manner." During the brief encounter she had felt his eyes upon her, but she hadn't thought anything of it. Apparently Cadeyrn had.

"Of course you didn't." The orchestra struck up a fast, complicated beat that made conversation impossible. Cadeyrn danced with an uncharacteristic scowl on his face, leaving Hermia to wonder just what he had seen that she hadn't.

* * *

><p>The hours passed rather quickly for Hermia. She was passed between her three brothers and her father as dance partners. If any strange man approached to ask for her hand they were quickly refused, not by Hermia, but by whichever male relation happened to be near her at the time. She didn't mind. Hermia felt more safe with the men in her family than she would with someone she had never met. Somewhere in her mind she remembered that the point of the ball was supposed to be meeting new people, but that idea had been pushed to the side the moment she had arrived.<p>

Hermia was dancing with Hamnet, laughing a bit at his antics as he led her though the floor like they were the only two dancing. When she song ended she happened to glance at the large clock above the grand staircase, which told her that it was half past eleven. Only half an hour of festivities remained. "I believe that's enough dancing for now, Hamnet. I am going for some fresh air." Before he could protest, she left him and moved her way through the couples who were standing, flush-faced, waiting for the next song to begin.

Sometime in the last few hours someone had opened the doors to the balcony, allowing for a rush of fresh, cool sea air to flood into the hall. Hermia stepped onto the balcony, grateful for the change in temperature and the fresh air. Hours being passed from brother to brother and constant movement in a room full of hundreds of people had made her hot and nearly suffocated.

Cair Paravel, being situated on a cliff above the sea, provided a rather breathtaking sight from this side of the castle. What was the ground floor on the other side, leading only to the rest of the city, was sheer cliff side and ocean on the other. The edge of the balcony was situated so that one may look over the side of the cliff and see the waves of the ocean crashing on the rock. Hermia pressed herself against the railing, loving the feel of the few drops of sea air that sprayed her face as she leaned over.

Her mind was reeling with thoughts about the night, and what had happened. Her first ball seemed to have been a success, as far as balls went. She had managed not to make a fool of herself, had danced, and was still standing. Hermia wasn't sure what else was supposed to transpire at balls. The romantic notions of Lilith rather confused her. She had seen the king dancing with other women, their faces alight at the feeling of being in the arms of their king. Hermia wished that Lilith had been one of them- her new friend had seemed to heart-broken at the prospect of sitting out the dancing and losing her opportunity with the high king. Thankfully for Lilith, the second ball at the end of the gathering would provide her plenty opportunity to enchant the king.

The whole process seemed rather pointless to Hermia. Now that she had experienced it, she couldn't quite see the merit. What was the use of putting on massive gowns and bright jewels and dancing about for a few hours? Did one learn something from it? She was quite sure she hadn't, except that Hamnet was as unreserved in such a public setting as he was anywhere else, and that Cadeyrn's waltz wasn't very good (he had stepped on her toes quite a few times). Hermia didn't think she wanted to go through it again.

Lilith could _have_ her shoes, if she wanted to be in them so badly.

Hermia stood at the edge of the balcony for quite a while, lost in her thoughts, before she became aware of someone else's presence. Turning her head, she gave a start when she saw the high king walking slowly towards her. His golden hair and grown and tunic shone in the residual light from the ballroom, giving him an ethereal glow. It was as if he, himself, shone from his own power.

"King Peter!"

"Correct identification." A smile quirked his lips, and Hermia frowned. Was he laughing at her? He had something in his hand, twirling over and over so that she couldn't quite see what it was.

"Is there something I can help you with, my king?" She tried to keep the faint irritation from her voice, but found that she failed. She had always hated it when Hamnet was sarcastic with her. It grated on her nerves.

"As a matter of fact, I had been hoping to catch a moment with you all night." Her frown deepened at his confession, and her eyes flew to the doors, hoping against hope that none of her brothers would catch the encounter.

"You have? Whatever for?"

"It seems you left something in the gardens this morning. I feel the need to return it to you." He reached inside his tunic, pulling out… the book! She had forgotten that she had dropped it earlier in her haste to get away. It hadn't even crossed her mind until this moment.

"Thank you, my lord. I had quite forgotten-" She reached out her hand for it, but he pulled it back before she could grab it.

"Not so fast. Before you can have it back, I have a question." With a sigh, Hermia moved her eyes from the book in his hand to his face, her eyes meeting his once again. She didn't know what her fascination with his eyes was. They seemed to draw her, like a moth to a flame, any time she was in close proximity to him. They were more narrow now than she remembered, and sparkling with the sort of mischief that she often saw in Hamnet's eyes.

"I don't like games, your highness. You can keep the book. It belongs in your library, anyway." Hermia moved to brush past him, but found her way blocked by his rather wide body. She ran into him, unprepared for his sudden movement, and found that it was rather like running into a brick wall. Bold in her anger, she looked up at him, struck once again by how tall he was. "I wish to leave."

"Unfortunately, I cannot allow that until you have answered my question." He had begun by using the book as leverage, but now that she seemed not to care, it looked as though he was going to find another way to get her to answer whatever question it was he had to ask.

"I hadn't thought the high king was someone who could be prone to rudeness. Please, allow me to leave. My brothers will be looking for me."

"Why did you run from me? Furthermore, why are you doing your best to rid yourself of my presence now? Never before has a woman had such a reaction to finding themselves alone with me."

"You make a habit out of trapping women on your balcony? That is bad manners, your majesty." She folded her arms, refusing to take a step back, despite their uncomfortable close proximity. To her surprise and consternation, he laughed.

"Not a habit, no, but on occasion it has been known to happen. But you have not answered my question."

"You wish to know why I ran? I was intimidated. And now I wish to leave because you are equally intimidating, and rather rude." The smile on his face was gone, and the expression in his eyes was quite different than it had been a moment before.

"I have been called much worse, and by far better people."

"And insulting!" He seemed to deflate, then, and his eyes lost that strange look. The king sighed.

"My apologies, my lady, it was not my intent to insult you. I am much bereaved that you find me intimidating… and rude." Hermia crossed her arms, breathing heavily. She realized that she couldn't stay annoyed at their high king forever, so she acquiesced to accepting his apology.

"It's quite alright, your highness. I don't usually stoop to calling people by unkind names. It was rather immature of me. Now may I leave?" He didn't move. Her eyes were stuck on his face as though it had some sort of gravitational pull. It was inescapable. He had another strange look in his eyes that she couldn't read, like he was searching for something. Cadeyrn hadn't explained what he had meant when he said he didn't like the way the king had looked at her. Was this what he had been speaking of?

"I believe I have another question, if you are amiable. But I believe you should have your book back, first." He held out the book again, and she took it, resisting the urge to tell him that it wasn't her book. At this point, it would seem as though she was simply trying to pick a fight.

When she took the book she noticed that it was thicker than it should be, as though there was something wedged in the pages, creating a bulge within the confines of the hard cover. Curiously, Hermia opened the little book, which easily fell open to the page with the intruder. It was a flower, or rather, a cluster of flowers, light purple in color, with leaves that looked as though they had come from ivy. Below the flower, the book read: _Ivy Geranium_- your hand for the next dance?

Hermia's heart jumped into her throat as she read and re-read the few words, unable for a few moments to understand. Was this his question? She looked up to meet his eyes again, and their inquisitive look gave her the answer she was looking for. He wanted to dance with her? _With her_? Her heart began to beat faster, unbidden, and she took a step back from him. Hermia thought of Lilith, of all the other women who were here for nothing other than to be asked to dance by one of their kings.

She had to…

Turning on her heel, Hermia ran, curing herself for her cowardice the whole time. People stared as she ran past, but she didn't care. She heard Amnon calling after her, running after her as she mounted the stairs. He didn't catch her until she was out of the ballroom and in the hall, breathing heavily, and listening as the grand clock distantly struck midnight.

* * *

><p>Anath looked at the grand clock. There would probably be one last dance before the festivities would end. The queen Lucy had persuaded him to dance with her a few times, and he had taken the queen Susan around once before she returned to her flock of suitors. He was now back at his pillar, watching. His eyes happened to flit over the opposite side of the room again, and he saw that the woman was still sitting, watching the dance as he was, but with a much more wistful look on her face. A pang of sympathy rushed through him, though he tried to suppress it. She was a horrid creature, and didn't deserve his sympathy.<p>

At least, that was what he told himself, even as his feet directed themselves towards her. She looked up as he approached, looking near tears. "Come to gloat again, have you?"

In answer, he put out his hands to her. "Come on, up you get."

"What? You know very well I'm confined to this chair. The mistress healer will come fetch me when the ball is over."

"I will support you. It's partially my fault you are sitting the ball out. Your ankle will be fine for one dance." Looking as though she would rather not, she gave him her hands. He pulled her to her feet and she crashed into him because of the sudden force of it. Luckily he was ready for it, and stood steady, waiting for her to gain her footing. "Put as much weight on me as you need." He said as gently as he could, leading her slowly to the dance floor as the current song ended.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to me?" He didn't answer, putting a hand on her waist and rearranging her hand in his to the proper position. Thankfully the last song was a slow one, allowing her to limp though the steps as she used him for balance. It probably wasn't the grand thing that she had been expecting- and he was no king- but it was something. She looked up at him as they danced, her dark eyes probing. He avoided them. He didn't want her reading into this and using her romantic mind to make it more than it was.

"What is your name?" He didn't look at her as he asked, looking, instead out onto the balcony, where he could see the silhouette of a man and a woman, standing rather close to each other.

"Lilith." It was a pretty enough name, though it didn't seem to suit her. The name Lilith reminded him of lilies, soft and delicate, not this Venus fly trap of a woman. They danced in silence for the rest of the time the orchestra played, and when it stopped, they stood together for a moment longer than necessary. "Thank you…" It came out very softly, almost as though she was having trouble speaking. He looked down at her again, surprised to see tears in her eyes.

"You're welcome."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Phew, that was an intensely long chapter. The next one won't be quite as long, but I will do my best. I hope you enjoyed the ball, because it was exceptionally fun to right. If you recognize the bit of conversation between Lilith and Hermia, it is because I adapted it from 'A Very Nice Prince' from Into the Woods. So that's not mine. It's one of my favorite musicals, in case you couldn't tell by my penname.

Until next time! Please don't forget to review!

**Some review responses-**

_Doggirllyn-_ Thank you! I'm so glad you've been taking time out of your day to review. I hope to have quite a bit done when you do return.

_Wellwithmysoul-_ Bah, I'm blushing. You flatter me! Hermia and Peter still have a long road ahead of them, I'm afraid. But I hope you still enjoy.


	5. Purple Hyacinth

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long. I've been really short on time this week because it's getting pretty close to finals here. Good news is I've only got a week left of school, which means I'll be having a lot more free time, and that means more writing, for those of you who care. Hopefully the next chapter will be up, soon. Until then, enjoy this one!

Xoxo,

Woods

**Chapter Five**

Purple Hyacinth

_Some flowers have interesting mythological sources of nomenclature. Hyacinth is a bulbous plant derived from the name of a beautiful Spartan youth, accidentally killed by Apollo, the sun god, while playing quoits; from his blood, sprang the beautiful flower- hyacinth. Whilst this flower is found in an assortment of hues, from the tragic tale of its name, the purple hyacinth stands as a symbol of sorrow, a request for forgiveness._

THE MORNING AFTER THE BALL was a slow, quiet one. Those who had stayed up considerably late, or perhaps indulged in too much wine were still in bed by the time noon came and the sun was high in the sky.

Hermia had hardly slept. Half the night was spent sitting in her parlor, still in her ball gown, thinking about what had happened. When she finally convinced herself to go back to her sleeping chambers and try to rest, she found herself unable to sleep. She lay beneath the soft down coverlet, listening to the distant sound of the sea through her open windows, and tried to make her mind stop it's insistent whirling.

It was worst when she would close her eyes. Then she would see _him._ His blue eyes so intense as they argued, then so hopeful as he gave her the book. He had been so powerful, so intimidating, and yet, in that moment, as gentle as any lamb. Her mind replayed the night's events over and over on the inside of her eyelids, as though she was there, really seeing him, many times over.

The high king had wanted to dance with her. With _her._ From what she could gather from Lilith, there had been women there who would have literally killed to have the chance to twirl around the room with the tall, handsome king. Why would he pick her? It was quite clear that he had planned to ask, as the flower in the book couldn't have come from anywhere in the hall. That meant that the act had been premeditated.

The thoughts haunted her as the night drew on. It was quite frustrating to have a question that she could not answer herself. She – who prided herself on being logical and well read – was confounded by this man, this king. The thought horrified her.

At the time it had simply been too much. He had been standing there, lighted by the moon and golden glow of the chandeliers of the ballroom. His golden hair and beard and crown had made him look quite handsome – as handsome as she was sure a man _could_ look. And he had looked at her so hopefully, as Lilith's words echoed in her ears _'what I wouldn't give to be in your shoes'. _He had wanted to dance with her. And she… what did she want?

That seemed to be the fundamental question behind all of her thinking. What did she want?

Only a few short weeks ago her answer to that question would have been clear and concise and sure- she wanted to be a healer. That was all she had ever hoped to be. It was what she focused her mind and energy and time on. And that was what she still wanted. She had never known that anyone could want anything more than that. It seemed as though when she arrived at Cair Paravel an entire new world had been opened up to her. Lilith seemed to intent on wanting nothing more than to catch the eye of the king, marry him, and be his queen.

Was that something that she wanted?

While she couldn't answer with certainty, she was fairly sure that the answer was 'no'. But, as she had said to Lilith, how can you know what you want until you get what you wish for and see if you like it? She knew that she liked being a healer, but being a queen? The idea did not appeal to her.

It was then that she realized that she had allowed her thoughts to run away with her. There had been nothing said about her becoming a queen. He had only asked her to dance. She didn't even know quite what that meant. She was certain that it was different than dancing with her brothers. Being near the king had brought her different feelings than being near to her brothers, as well. His large, hard body had been pressed to her for a few moments that had felt like years, and it was enough to make her feel hot and her head spin. Was that what it would feel like to dance with him? To have his hand in hers, to feel the hard muscles of his shoulder under her hand, and feel the warmth of him on her waist?

Eventually her thoughts slowed, and she dozed softly, thinking about his bright blue eyes and the feel of him pressed against her.

She had awoken the next morning feeling tired and confused. Hermia wondered if this was what people were supposed to feel like after a ball. Did everyone else lay awake all night, their minds on what had happened at the ball? Was there any other woman who lay awake, unable to sleep for thoughts of electric blue eyes?

Once out of bed, Hermia dressed herself, and braided her hair into a long, unruly plait. At that moment she longed for a bath, but knew that the servants would be much too busy preparing lunch and cleaning up after the night's festivities to bring her hot water for a bath. She would have to wait.

The hall was empty as she entered it, and she gently padded down to the first of her brother's rooms- Hamnet, who had chambers right beside hers. She pushed her way into his sitting room, which was decorated in a similar fashion to her own, and crossed to where the door to his bedroom sat, un-open. When she approached the door she raised a hand and rapped her knuckles on the wooden surface hard, four or five times.

Immediately there was a noise from inside the chamber – a faint rustling, and what sounded like a voice, or perhaps two voices – and then a thud. A moment later the door opened, and her brother appeared. His light hair was rumpled, and he seemed to be completely bare except for a sheet that he had taken from his bed and wrapped around himself. The light of the room fell on his face and he shut his eyes, cringing. "Sister! I should have known you were the only one who could possibly be awake at this unholy hour." His voice was rough with sleep, and something else she couldn't define.

"Only you would consider noon an unholy hour. Is there someone in there?" She asked, catching a bit of movement out of the corner of her eye. Hamnet moved in front of her, blocking her view of the inside of his room.

"If there is not, I have wasted the whole night. Go back to sleep, sister. And pray, go and bother Cadeyrn. He was deeper into his cups than I last night, and I am willing to put money on his head feeling worse than mine."

"Is that what the two of you got up to after the ball? It looks as though you've been brawling, as well. You have bruises and… are those scratches?" She rose on her tip-toes to see the angry red scratches along his shoulders, and the red bruises peppered along his neck and collar bone. He clapped a hand to his neck and glared at her.

"Please, leave me be. I'll be fine. Please." Reluctantly, Hermia took a step back, frowning at her twin. He seemed rather desperate for her to leave. Before she could turn to exit, a distinctly female voice called for her brother from the inside of his chamber. She raised an eyebrow at her twin, who grimaced at her and stepped backwards into his room, shutting the door.

* * *

><p>"Peter!" Light flooded into the high king's chamber, hitting his eyes and waking him quickly and rudely. He groaned and rolled over, only to find his way blocked by another body. All at once the events of the night flooded back to him, and he fell onto his back with another groan. Edmund was in his chamber, laughing in his annoying way. He had watched the little blonde woman flee from him and immediately anger had flooded his senses. Never had a woman denied him when he asked for anything, let alone run away from him. Who did she think she was?<p>

Peter had found the first amiable woman he could and brought her back to his chambers, not without a bottle of wine. She had a head of curly blonde hair, not unlike the hair of the woman who occupied his thoughts. Before he could gather his thoughts beyond this point, the coverlet was ripped from his body, exposing him and the woman beside him. This, of course, roused his companion, who screamed.

"Blast it all, Edmund, must you always be a nuisance?" Peter sat up, unashamed in his nakedness, and glared at his brother. He was rather indifferent to the fact that the woman was darting about the room gathering her clothing and dressing hastily. She exited the room quickly, causing Edmund's laugh to increase in volume.

"The swift manner with which your bedmate left speaks volumes about your prowess, big brother." Edmund stood by the side of his brother's bed, looking unnecessarily smug, his arms crossed.

"I am quite sure her leaving quickly had nothing to do with you pulling back the bed curtains and removing the covers, and everything to do with my ability to please her." Peter grumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. He could only thank Aslan that he hadn't had enough of the bottle of wine to be too hung-over this morning. It seemed his brother was going to be annoyingly lively. He seemed to take pleasure in bating Peter when he was in a foul mood, rather like poking a tiger in a cage when you know the bars are strong enough to hold him back. Edmund knew that his brother would never actually snap and harm him, and the knowledge emboldened him. "Well, what is the bloody important reason you've come in here and interrupted my sleep for? I hope for your sake someone is dead, or dying, or seriously injured. Or else it will be _you_ who is seriously injured."

"We are going for a ride. Some fresh air will help with your sour temper. And you will have to tell me what these rumors are about a young woman positively fleeing from you last night. I do hope you haven't done anything too dreadful. With your luck her father will be some burly warrior, searching for you right at this moment." If only his brother knew how close he was to the truth. He had a feeling if any of the young woman's brothers or her father had caught wind of the rumors he would have a hard time fighting them off.

"Get out, will you? I'll join you in a moment." Edmund, mercifully, left then and Peter sighed before going about his morning rituals. It was safe to say that the previous night hadn't turned out quite how he planned. When he had endeavored to get the blonde girl to dance with him he had not anticipated that she would be possessed with such a temper, or that she would have the nerve to turn him down. Perhaps she wasn't quite the sweet, timid young thing he had thought her to be. The idea intrigued and excited him now that he was over his initial anger.

Perhaps she would prove to be more of a challenge than he thought. And Peter loved challenges.

He could only hope that the woman he had chosen to spend the night with understood the concept of subtlety. The last thing he needed was more rumors.

* * *

><p>"Amnon, what does it mean when a man asks a woman to dance with him?" Hermia was sitting with her oldest brother, having successfully roused him from sleep, in the main dining room. Her question must have come as a shock to him, as he choked on the wine that he had been swallowing. She waited patiently for him as he sputtered, taking a napkin and whipping the red liquid from his face and the table where it had sprayed.<p>

"W-What?"

"When a man asks a woman to dance. It must be different than when you or Hamnet or Cadeyrn or father asks me to dance. Why is it different?" Her brother fixed her with a look that she often saw when he was gazing at Hamnet or Cadeyrn- like he was trying to calculate how to react while causing the least amount of damage.

"Did a man ask you do dance with him, Hermia?" When she had run from the ball the night before she hadn't told him why, and he hadn't pressed her for answers. He had simply escorted her to her room and gone back to his own, glad not to take part in Cadeyrn and Hamnet's foolishness. She didn't answer his question, her eyes turned down to her plate and used her fork to press a small butter pat, avoiding his probing gaze. "Perhaps this is something you should be speaking to mother about." Frustrated, Hermia looked up from her plate to glare at her oldest brother.

"Why is it that is always your answer for everything? You always tell me to ask mother, and she always tells me that it is something I will have to learn when I am older. I did not know that there was an age restriction on knowledge." Her eyes narrowed as he sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his forehead with one of his hands.

"Hermia, my darling sister, a man asking a woman to dance has different meanings depending on who is doing the asking, and their intent." At this she frowned, her brows knitting together in her typical look of confused concentration.

"I don't understand."

"Of course you do not. There is quite a bit of social and emotional context that goes into these sorts of things... is this why you fled from the ball last night, Hermia?"

"No!" Her response came a little too quickly, it seemed, as Amnon gave her a look that spoke of his disbelief. Hermia scrambled to explain. "It was just, my friend was unable to dance last night, and she seemed to wish for nothing more than for the king to ask her to dance. I was unsure if the act had a different meaning than I had already inferred. It is nothing special for you to ask me to dance."

"I am glad you think so." Sarcasm was thickly laced in his voice, causing Hermia to shoot him an annoyed glare.

"You know what I meant. I simply felt as if I was missing something. How is dancing with a king different than dancing with your brother?" Amnon looked at her for a long moment, contemplating. But, before he could answer, Hermia saw his eyes widen and he rose from his chair, looking at something over Hermia's shoulder. Turning, she felt her heart leap into her throat as she saw the very person who had been on her mind since last night- the high king. Along with three other men, he was making his way through the large dining room, listening as the man she knew to be King Edmund spoke to him.

The party approached and Hermia automatically rose, curtseying when they were close enough. The group of men stopped, and Hermia could feel her heart pounding a panicked tattoo in her throat. "King Peter! King Edmund! Good morning to you!" Hermia heard her brother speak as she rose from her curtsey, seeing the very tall high king much closer to her than she anticipated.

"And to you, lord Amnon. I trust you enjoyed the ball last evening?" His voice. It was dark and deeper than she remembered, and caused a shiver to run through her body, though she didn't quite know why.

"Indeed. And yourself?" Edmund, the high king's brother, gave a throaty chuckle and elbowed his brother, causing Peter to glare at him.

"My brother's enjoyment came a bit after the ball, if I may say so, my lord."

Hermia, confused, took her eyes off of the high king's chest and looked him in the face. His cheeks were pink with anger at his brother's words, but his blue eyes were as piercing as ever. As soon as he felt her eyes on him he looked back at her, their gazes locking. The beating of her heart sped up, and for a moment the world fell away as they looked at each other.

"Please, king Edmund, not in front of the lady." A large man standing behind the kings put a hand on Edmund's shoulder, causing him to stop speaking. Hermia took her eyes off of Peter and looked at the man who had spoken. With a cry of surprised delight, Hermia recognized the man who had helped her in the library the day before.

"Lord Anath!" The kings parted to allow her to see him better, and she grinned as he favored her with a smile.

"My lady. I trust you are enjoying your book?"

"Very much so! It has been very... informative." Hermia hesitated on the final word, remembering the small bunch of flowers still stuck between the pages. She wondered if the high king would infer that the book they were speaking of was the same one he had returned to her the night before. "Oh, and this is my oldest brother, Amnon. This is the lord Anath. He helped me in the library yesterday morning." She watched as the two men nodded to each other, seeming to size each other up.

"We were just on our way to collect my sisters for a ride across the countryside," the high king spoke, cutting through the silence in a way only he could. "Would you care to join us?"

"Oh, we-" Hermia began, unsure of what she was going to say, but Amnon cut across her.

"We would be delighted, my king."

Hermia looked at her brother, who refused to look at her. She knew that it was better that he accepted, though her entire being told her that she should run away again and never look back. How on earth had she gotten into this predicament already?

"Excellent! We must fetch Susan and Lucy, and we will rendezvous at the stables in a half an hour, perhaps longer if Susan must decide what to wear." The men continued on their way, and Hermia dropped back into her seat, her legs feeling weak and shaky as though the eyes of her high king had somehow liquefied them.

"I have to change." She said lamely, looking down at her lap and the dress she had chosen for the day which seemed rather dull and faded compared to the splendor that accompanied the high king.

"Yes, of course. Run along. I will fetch you in a moment." Hermia got to her feet again, willing her legs to support her as she left the dining room and made her way back to her chambers. She wondered if she would ever be at the point where she would be able to interact with the monarchs without losing her head completely. After the month was over she would be going back to the lone islands, and probably never see them again, so it wouldn't be much of a loss if she always felt uncomfortable around them.

Yet, she hated feeling unsettled. It took quite a bit, after growing up with three brothers, to overturn her nerves. Why was it that Hamnet could fill her bed with spiders and she wouldn't bat an eyelash, yet face to face with a man like the high king and she was turned into a senseless ninny?

Hermia entered her room and immediately began rummaging through her dresser drawers for something suitable to wear while on horseback and in the presence of the royal siblings who ruled Narnia. Her hands found a pair of fine white breeches that she had often worn while riding her own pony at home, a soft linen shirt, and a lovely blue velvet tunic that had once belonged to Hamnet, but that her mother had said complemented her eyes.

Knowing she only had a few moments, she stripped off her dress and donned the new garments, hoping she didn't look as frazzled and wrecked as she felt. Would the high king confront her about what had happened? Would he allow it to fall to the wayside? Surely he wouldn't bring up the subject in front of her older brother. Or would he?

Before she could work herself into being truly nervous, there was a knock at her door. Amnon. A rush of relief flooded through her, though she didn't quite know why. Remembering that Amnon would be there made her feel better about the entire situation. Nothing bad could happen if Amnon was there. She opened the door.

"Just one moment. I need different shoes." Her brother stood at the door, watching with vague amusement as she darted to her wardrobe and opened it, reaching for the pair of boots she knew were sitting at the bottom. They were there, and she stepped into them, sighing at the feel of the soft, worn leather forming to her feet and calves. She turned back to her brother and he held out an arm for her. Gratefully, she stepped towards him and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, wondering vaguely if Hamnet was still in bed.

Together they exited the castle, seeing the small party gathered before the main stables. The queen Lucy, dressed in a lovely yellow riding gown, ran to Hermia the moment they were in sight.

"I was so happy when Peter told us you were coming. Come, I don't believe you've met Susan yet!" Hermia allowed herself to be detached from her brother and gently dragged forward. The gentle queen was wearing a red riding gown, similar to Lucy's, and looking as radiant as one could while standing beside a barn. "Susan! This is my friend I was telling you about! Hermia, this is Susan." Hermia bowed, feeling rather out of place among the lovely gowns and lovelier people.

"A pleasure to meet you, my lady."

"I have heard quite a bit about you, miss Hermia." The queen said as Hermia straightened, her voice like the sound of water rushing over stones in a brook.

"All complimentary!" Chirped the blonde queen, taking Hermia's hand in her own. Hermia could only smile, grateful that the kings seemed to be engrossed in their own conversation and were ignoring the fact that she had her brother were now among them. "Peter! We have the rest of our party, now. Perhaps we should begin."

The men turned at the sound of Lucy's call. Hermia knew all of the men but one, a shorter, broad young man with a full mouth, a wide nose, and eyes that were rather dark and baleful, like those of a basset hound. He saw Hermia looking and stepped forward, giving a rather grand bow. "My lady. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sirius, of the northern territories, squire to the king Edmund." He rose from his bow and took Hermia's hand, placing a rather grand kiss upon it .

"Very pleased to meet you, as well, sir." Hermia said, a bit stiffly, seeing Amnon fold his arms in her peripheral vision.

Before her brother could speak, however, the high king seemed to decide they had wasted enough time. "Sirius. Please inform the staff that we will depart shortly. And have them fetch Kenelm and Ornella, for our guests." Hermia could only assume that the names that the king spoke were horses- not people. At least, she hoped that was the case. She shifted herself closer to her brother, grinning back at the queen Lucy as she grinned at her.

"Did you enjoy the ball, Hermia? I apologize for only visiting with you briefly. I do seem to lose my head at balls." Hermia could feel the high king's eyes upon her again, and tried not to look at him.

"Oh, that's quite all right. It was a lovely ball, if I may say so, but I've only ever been to the one, so my opinion may be a little untrustworthy." She admitted, looking at the toes of her boots. The group was silent for a moment, but the silence was quickly broken by seven pages approaching with Sirius, a horse following each man. Immediately Peter took Susan's arm and led her to a pretty chestnut mare, kneeling and helping her to mount her horse.

"Your horse, milady." Hermia turned when Sirius's voice came from her shoulder, and she gasped at the creature standing to his left. The horse was nearly entirely white, with only the very noticeable exception of a large splotch of brown that covered almost all of the mare's face.

"Oh, she's lovely. Such unusual coloring…" Hermia trailed off, putting a hand on the horse's forehead, gently stroking the soft coat.

"She was a gift from Calorman. They breed horses there that they call Painted. Indeed, she does look as though she has been painted, does she not?" The high king, sitting astride his large dappled mare, spoke, as she allowed Sirius to boost her astride the mare.

"She does." Hermia agreed, urging the horse forward as king Edmund and queen Susan began leading the group. "What was her name again, my lord?" She could feel Amnon's presence very close on her left, and it made speaking without quivering much easier. She fixed her eyes ahead as they descended through the city, listening to the small party conversing around her, and waiting for the high king's answer.

"Her name, dear lady, is why I thought her an appropriate mount for this afternoon's ride. It is Ornella." When he spoke, he was much closer than she anticipated. His voice seemed to be directly in her right ear, causing shivers to roll town her back.

"And what does it mean?" Her inquisitive nature couldn't let her leave the question unasked, though she was sure he would have told her, even if she had chosen to stay silent. She couldn't – wouldn't – bring herself to turn to look at him. She was quite sure that she would fall from her horse if she were to find herself looking into his stunningly blue eyes once again, at such close proximity.

"It is a Calormean word. It means 'little flower'." She could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke his last words, more to himself than to her, "yes, most appropriate." She inhaled sharply as she heard him urge his horse forward to catch up with his siblings. The four royals were leading the group now, talking jovially and waving to any citizens who happened to be in the streets as they made their way through the village. Sirius was in the middle of the group, riding beside Anath, bearing the Narnian flag with a red lion against the green backdrop. Hermia and Amnon brought up the rear, giving the two siblings a bit of privacy in the wake of the high king's unusual behavior.

"Would you mind telling me what that was about? He seemed awfully familiar with you, Hermia. Is there something you aren't telling me?" Her oldest brother's voice sounded so like their father's at that moment that Hermia felt chastised, and lowered her head.

"Amnon I… the high king Peter happened upon me when I was in the queen Lucy's gardens. I suppose that is why he thought she," Hermia gestured to Ornella, who was prancing eagerly, her ears turning every which way, "was an appropriate choice for me. Other than that, I can honestly say I am as bemused as you are." They rode in silence, then, her brother seeming to contemplate what she had just told him and what had just occurred.

Hermia lost herself in her thoughts, as well. He didn't seem to be angry, the high king, after she fled from him the night before. Quite the contrary, he seemed to… well, she couldn't quite put a name to it. She wasn't an expert on male behavior that wasn't the behavior of her own brothers. His voice had been low and deep in her ear when he spoke, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that his eyes had darkened in the same way they had when they had been on the balcony together. What did that mean? She was quite sure that asking Amnon this would make him even more suspicious than he already was.

This was clearly getting out of hand.

When she had found out that she was going to be traveling with her family to Cair Paravel, she had been excited that she was going to their nation's capital. She had been excited for all the people she was going to meet, and all the things she was going to learn. She hadn't thought at all about their monarchs. They would be there, she knew, but she had never thought that they would take any interest in her.

After all, who was she?

Nobody.

And yet, here she was, leaving the city limits of Cair Paravel as a part of the royal party, riding one of their horses, and her head full of thoughts of nothing but the high king and his mystifying actions. He had spoken to her. Asked her to dance with him. Seemed to think of her, even now.

But what did it all mean?

Her brain was one that stuck to a problem, and she was sure that it would drive her insane if she couldn't figure it out. Perhaps she _would_ ask her mother. That seemed to be what Amnon wanted her to do, at any rate.

The small party left the city and stopped. "To the shore, methinks. Our guests have yet to experience the wonder that is riding along the beach of Cair Paravel." The queen Susan remarked, looking towards the place where the sea could be seen, waves breaking gently along the shore. No one protested. They turned their horses towards the shore, their ranks breaking somewhat now that they were outside the bounds of the city.

Amnon was caught in conversation with the king Edmund – the two men apparently having a differing opinion on relations with the giants on the northern borders – and Hermia found herself between the two queens. Sirius, Anath and the king Peter were just to their left. Once again Hermia was struck by how out of place she was. The breeches and tunic she had once thought so fine paled in comparison to the finery the queens wore, and the way they bore it.

"Miss Hermia!" Lucy called after a long moment of riding in silence, brining her palomino closer to facilitate conversation. "Where are your other brothers this morning? I would so like to meet them."

"They are – erm – somewhat occupied at the moment. They were both a little too deep in their cups last night. I expect when we return they will be at my door, begging for a cure for their hangovers." Hermia spoke bitterly, her eyes downcast. She didn't want to lie to the young queen, but her brother's actions did leave quite a bit to be desired. She was sure if she met her father before Cadeyrn and Hamnet there would be little left of the men to tend to. Hermia would certainly be giving them an earful, at any rate.

"I am sorry to hear that. I am glad that at least the lord Amnon was able to accompany us on this lovely day. I do so love riding in this part of the country."

"It is quite lovely, my lady." Hermia found herself nearly at a loss for words as they reached the shoreline. The grass changed smoothly to soft, white sand and she could feel the horse beneath her change her footing to cope with the new turf. The sea was a bright, sparkling blue, thousands of colors sparkling from the light of the sun. The surf was gentle and calm, providing a soft background noise to their conversation. Looking up, Hermia gasped at the sight of the castle of Cair Paravel above them. "Do people ever swim in the sea, my lady?" The question came from her before she could think to stop herself.

The queen Susan looked scandalized. "Swim in the sea? No, I'm afraid not, lady Hermia. Whatever made you think of that?"

"It seems a perfectly lovely idea." Hermia said, her eyes drawn to the waves again. The day was hot, and she could feel the hairs that had sprung free from her braid sticking to the back of her neck. The water was inviting, and would certainly be cool. Did people here not swim? "So long as one made sure not to go in too deep, or be carried away by a current."

"Carried away by a current?" Hermia jumped, and noticed with a violent start that the king Peter had slowed his horse to allow the women to catch up with him.

"Miss. Hermia seems to think that swimming in the ocean would be a… lovely idea." Hermia felt her face grow hot as the high king threw his head back in laughter. It took him a moment to calm himself, during which Hermia urged her horse to move faster and away from the laughing man. She was nearly to her brother when the king caught up with her.

"I know you think it's ridiculous, but please refrain from laughing at me."

"My apologies. I did not mean to make you feel badly. I suppose it is an interesting notion, in its own way." She didn't look at him. She tried not to think of the fact that he was once again riding beside her, looking at her with those piercing blue eyes. She could feel them upon her, looking at her, searching her. She looked at the sea.

"Do not mock me, sir. You should give me no more cause to take back my apologies for calling you rude." To her utter consternation, the man laughed again.

"And here I was beginning to believe that you had forgotten completely." Hermia felt her blush beginning to creep down her neck and she used her legs to nudge her horse to her left, towards the breaking waves and away from the infuriating man on her right. "Am I truly that intimidating?" He was close to her, still, in spite of her attempts to get away from him. Hermia looked ahead to see her brother still deep in conversation with the king Edmund, lord Anath having joined their group. She knew that behind her the two queens were most likely riding together, talking about her. No escape could be seen.

"No, not… not entirely."

"Then _why_?" She did not have to ask what he was talking about. She knew. He wanted to know why she had run from him. As much as Hermia loved asking questions, and answering them, she was afraid that she did not have an answer for him. Dare she say that it was because he made her heart feel as though it was straining to leave her chest? Dare she say it was because she felt as though his eyes had the power to see into her soul? Dare she say that being close to him made her body feel as though it was on fire?

No, she didn't dare.

"I don't know, my lord. Why does it matter?" He chuckled now, a darker, softer sound than his laugh. It sent shivers down her spine.

"Why does it matter? Hermia," another shiver as he spoke her name. "No woman has _ever_ run from me. It matters a great deal." It was then that something clicked in her brain. She took in a great breath of air and turned to him, her eyebrows knitting together.

"I've hurt your ego!"

"Excuse me?" His handsome face looked taken aback, his golden eyebrows rising into the fringe of his hair.

"I have seen my brothers behaving this way. Your ego has been bruised." It felt as though someone had lit a flame in her brain, illuminating a truth that had been there the whole time, but she had been too dim to see.

"My ego? You have done no such thing. I am afraid you mistake me, madam-"

"No, I believe I understand you just fine. If I had danced with you last night you would not give two licks about me at this moment. What am I? I am nothing. You are a king." She didn't know why she felt so angry over this. She still was unsure as to what it had meant when he asked her to dance, but she knew that denying him had hurt his view of himself. No doubt he had been very sure that there was no woman in the land who could possibly deny him. Indeed, if all the women in Cair Paravel were like Lilith, she could see where he had gotten the notion that he was irresistible.

Did he make every woman's heat beat like he had made hers beat? Did his eyes search their souls? Did he make their bodies feel like they were on fire?

Almost definitely.

She recognized his behavior from her brothers. She could recall very clearly her own twin pouting over a woman for three months after she turned him down. Men were like babies when they had their egos hurt. It seemed that the high king was no exception.

"Are you sure you aren't part serpent, my lady? I feel as though I am conversing with a viper."

"If you were expecting a docile little lamb I am afraid you have misjudged me again."

"You? Never. Though the way you seem to turn tail and feel suggests you have more lamb in you than you would like to admit."

"Imagine what the people of Narnia would think if they saw their high king stooping to insulting a lady to help soothe his bruised ego." Hermia sniffed and turned to look at him again, shocked at the way he was looking at her. It was a hard look. His eyes were dark, and she suddenly felt as though she really was a lamb staring into the eyes of a great lion.

"My ego is fine, thank you. But I must extend you my apologies. I have become less the gentleman I know myself to be, once again. If you wish, I will stop pursuing you." Pursuing her? Whatever did that mean?

"I do not enjoy being made to feel inferior." It was the only thing she could think of to say. Indeed, he had made her feel as small and insignificant as a horse fly, small and irritating, biting at the hind quarters of a horse. "Why do you like to irritate me so?"

"Why do you rise to the occasion?" Hermia was glad that the tension between them had seemed to diffuse. It was as though they hadn't argued at all. Hermia wondered if this was how it would always be when she spoke to her king- the slow beginning, the trading of veiled insults and arguing, then apologies. It seemed an exhausting cycle. Yet, she couldn't help but feel exhilarated. He didn't seem likely to address the issue of her running from him again, and though she knew she was right on the matter, she would not bring up his ego again unless he forced her to.

"Once again, my lord, I cannot give you answer. I do not know."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Did you miss me? For those of you who actually read this story, I must apologize for the long wait. Finals week took a real toll on my free time and muse. This was one of the hardest chapters I've ever had to write, but I hope you won't be able to tell. Next chapter should be easier. At least, that is what I am hoping. I am planning some insight into Lilith's life, as well as a long overdue conversation between Hermia and her mother. Feel free to leave requests for what you would like to see, as well. I am always up for suggestions.

Until next time, my loves, I hope you have a wonderful day. Don't forget to review!


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